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A JOLLY GOOD SUMMER. 


THE JOLLY GOOD SERIES. 

By Mary P. Wells Smith. 

JOLLY GOOD TIMES ; or, CbUd-Llfe on a Farm. 
JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT SCHOOL. 

THE BROWNS ; or, Jolly Good Times in the City. 
THEIR CANOE TRIP. 

JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK. 

MORE GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK. 

JOLLY GOOD TIMES TO-DAY, 

A JOLLY GOOD SUMMER. 

Price $1,25 each, 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers. 




V- 


\ 
A 



Tolly Good Summer. 


BY 


/ 


MARY P. WELLS SMITH, 

AUTHOR OF “jolly GOOD TIMES; OR, CHILD-LIFE ON A FARM,” 
“jolly GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK,” “THE 
BROWNS,” “their CANOE TRIP.” 



BOSTON: 

ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1895. 




\ 

, > 

Copyright, 1895, 

By Roberts Brothers. 

Ail rights reserved. 


John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 


. 9 


TO 


AGNES MARY, 

WITH UNDYING LOVE. 

“ A BUD falling from a tree withers ; but that human blossom, whether it 
dropped from your branches yesterday or a 'score of years ago, to your thought 
can suffer no biight. Is it not fresh as the morning to you still ? What was it 
but an incarnate promise of God,' like the morning-star unquenched, though it 
disappear ?”— Dk. C. A. Bartol. 



/ 


« 1 



PREFACE. 



'HIS book, although a story by itself, in reality 


continues “Jolly Good Times To-day,” and 
tells what Amy Strong and her little friends “ did 
next.” It is a story of real American children to- 
day, neither better nor worse than the small folk 
who gladden hundreds of homes all over our coun- 
try, — that land of happy homes. 

A hopeful omen for the world’s future, of which 
pessimists might well make note, is that the grow- 
ing spirit of humanitarianism, perhaps the most 
striking characteristic of our age, is especially active 
among the children. They are full of an irrepres- 
sible enthusiasm of helpfulness, never happier than 
when working for some worthy cause, or extending 
something of their own good fortune to the less 
favored. The promptings of their generous in- 
stincts we may well encourage, and even follow. 
“ Bless the children,” says Dr. Bartol. “ But for 
their benediction and solid bounty, the world were 
not worth living in.” “ Hear, and hear to the chil- 


IV 


Preface. 


dren,” he adds. “ These minute philosophers illus- 
trate the conceptions and purposes of God in what- 
ever the human soul may cherish that is good in 
affection or sublime in hope. . . . Childhood is 
the everlasting type and the real gospel, always 
preached under the cheerful sun.” 

MARY P. WELLS SMITH. 

Avondale, Cincinnati, 0., 

April 28, 1895. 


CONTENTS, 


Chapter Page 

I. “Farming” 7 

II. Fairyland 20 

III. Amy’s New Plan 35 

IV. Preparing for the Lawn Fete . , . . 46 

V. The Lawn Fete 57 

VI. Hen^ology 72 

VII. The Sunday-School Picnic 86 

VIII. Summer Vacation 104 

IX. The Glorious Fourth 118 

X. Going Away 135 

XI. The Island . 149 

XII. Life in the Wildwood 165 

XIII. Huckleberrying 177 

XIV. Some Happenings 186 

XV. A Few Letters . 200 

XVI. A Rainy Birthday 212 

XVII. Some Visits 224 

XVIII. Old Hackmatack and Old Times ... 246 

XIX. The Reception 265 

XX. The Girls’ Musical Club 276 

XXI. Nebraska Friends 288 

XXII. The Mother Goose Play 298 




A JOLLY GOOD SUMMEE. 


CHAPTER 1. 


FARMING.’’ 


LL up and down Hillside Avenue there was an 



/A intermittent popping of fire-crackers ; an irreg- 
ular, scattering pop, pop, with now and then a tre- 
mendous bang where some spendthrift boy lavishly 
let off a whole pack at once, to the mingled envy 
and admiration of all the other boys on the avenue. 
Was it the Fourth of July ? By no means. It was 
only the first of June, but the simmering patriotism 
of young America could no longer be suppressed, and 
from then until the fifth of July, the firing would only 
be limited by the boys’ chances of securing money. 

Even the girls caught the fever of patriotism raging 
among the boys. One pleasant Friday afternoon in 
June, Amy Strong had been up to Mrs. Blau’s little 
store to make a five cent purchase of doll’s furniture 
for the village in the attic, where the court of dukes, 
counts, and princesses inhabiting the bandbox houses 
of that aristocratic settlement was constantly growing 
under the fostering care of Irene and herself. On 
her way back, she met Kitty Clover coming rather 
soberly home from school, dragging her school-bag by 
the strings, as if it were an intolerable burden. 


8 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

The public school had let out almost an hour 
before, as Amy knew, or she would not have ventured 
up to Mrs. Blaids, being shy of meeting the swarm of 
children who filled the streets at the close of school, 
wild with the joy of freedom, and ready for any mis- 
chievous prank. 

What ’s the piatter, Kitty ? What makes you 
so late ? ” asked Amy, as Kitty’s long face lighted up 
at sight of her, and she skipped joyfully across the 
street to join her friend. 

^‘The same old thing,” said Kitty. ^‘My problems. 
Miss Wilson is so strict, and she gives us such long 
lessons, I can’t possibly get them, even if I study 
every minute. And I did whisper a little to May 
Morgan, and of course she caught me. I detest prob- 
lems, anyway.” 

So do I,” said Amy, heartily. It ’s too bad you 
had to stay in, such a beautiful night as this.” 

^‘One good thing,” said Kitty. There are only 
two weeks more after this. Only six more days of 
study, think of that, and then those horrible exami- 
nations, and then school is out till next fall.” 

My school closed to-day,” said Amy, and so did 
Irene’s. And they don’t begin again until the first of 
October. Is n’t it lovely ? ” 

Yes, indeed,” said Kitty, I only wish I went to 
a private school too. But what is that, Amy ? ” 

‘‘A cap monkey,” said Amy, displaying a small 
iron monkey, to a ring in whose head a long string 
was tied. It ’s very nice. ' You see his mouth opens 
just wide enough to hold a cap like this.” 

Here Amy fed the monkey’s yawning mouth from 
a round box of percussion caps. 


‘‘ Farming r 9 

you drop him hard on the pavement/’ said 
Amy, suiting the action to the word. 

Kitty was delighted with the loud bang that fol- 
lowed. bought him at Mrs. Blau’s/’ said Amy. 

The monkey cost three cents, and you can get a box 
of caps for a cent.” 

“ I am going to run right home,” said Kitty, whose 
school-bag seemed wonderfully lightened, ‘‘and get 
five cents, and buy me a monkey and some caps.” 

And when they met Irene and Laura, they too felt 
cap monkeys necessary to their happiness. Mrs. Blau 
soon drove a brisk trade, as she always did, if once 
a fashion were well started among the children of 
Hillside Avenue. Even the boys did not disdain the 
cap monkeys, for, as Bob Clover said, — 

“ Five cents worth of caps lasts three times as long 
as a pack of crackers, and makes almost as much 
noise.” 

When the girls, that night after dinner, were out on 
the pavement snapping their cap monkeys, Amy told 
her friends a little piece of good news. 

“ Oh, girls ! ” she said, “ if it ’s a pleasant day 
to-morrow, Mr. Green is going to begin mowing our 
tall grass, I guess.” 

“Oh, is he?” cried the girls in concert. “Then 
we ’ll all come over here to play in the hay in the 
afternoon.” 

“Yes. Mamma told him this morning that she 
thought the grass was getting over-ripe, and he said 
he guessed he could come to-morrow, if it was fair. 
He said he had a stove to clean for Mrs. Kaiser, 
and a bundle to carry in town for Mrs. Bruce, and 
Mr. Parker wanted him to take his horse out to 


10 A Jolly Good Summer, 

exercise ; but he reckoned he could cut some of it, 
anyway.” 

While the front part of Professor Strong’s grounds, 
around the house and flower-beds, was kept closely 
shaven with the lawn-mower, the grass on the sloping 
hillside in the rear was allowed to grow unmolested, 
and now tossed its plumy blossoms in the summer 
wind, unconscious that Mr. Green’s scythe was lying 
in wait, ready to lay its glory low. The mowing of 
the Strong’s tall grass was quite an event among the 
children of the avenue, being regarded by them as a 
real bit of farm life, and Mr. Green was always sure 
to have all the help even his good nature could 
tolerate. 

Saturday morning was as pleasant as the most 
ardent mower could desire. The rose season had 
come, and the many rose bushes in Mrs. Strong’s 
beds were a mass of rich color, gladdening the eye, 
while their sweet fragrance filled the air. The elm 
shadows lay long from the east on the hillside, where 
the doomed grass waved and rippled in a gentle breeze ; 
and from the leafy heart of elm and maple, robin, 
blue-bird, wren, and bobolink poured glad songs. 

This was the first sound Amy heard, when she 
sleepily opened her eyes, and pleasant dream-land 
began to fade away into the actual to-day. The next 
was the sound of whetting a scythe. 

must be a pleasant day,” she thought, as she 
sprang out of bed and ran into her mother’s room to 
peep out at the hillside. Yes, there was Mr. Green, 
valiantly swinging his scythe, and there were Schnei- 
der and Count, and Dr. Trimble’s Badger helping 
him. 


“ Farming^ 


11 


Let no one imagine, because Mr. Green began thus 
promptly, that the mowing would be finished that 
day. Far from it. Mr. Green’s method of farming 
was more leisurely. He would mow until the Strong’s 
breakfast was over. Then Bridget would call him in 
to get a cup of coffee and a bite ” to eat. The bite 
disposed of, he would fill Bridget’s coal-buckets, and 
then mow a bout or two ” more ; then hang his 
scythe up on a maple limb, in plain view of the 
library window, to cheer Mrs. Strong’s spirits every 
time she looked out to see how the mowing was pro- 
gressing, with the assurance that Mr. Green was com- 
ing right back. By and by, Mr. Green would drop 
in and mow a few more swaths, in the intervals of 
errands and chores for half the avenue. In the after- 
noon, when the heat of the sun was somewhat abated, 
he would take a few more leisurely swings of the 
scythe ; and so, in this way, if no storm happened to 
intervene, the Strong’s grass was sure to be cut within 
three or four days, at least. 

The children thought Mr. Green’s method of farm- 
ing admirable. The more haying was prolonged, the 
better were they suited. Soon after breakfast, the 
little folk of the avenue began to flock into the Strong’s 
back premises, and Mr. Green soon had his hands 
full. 

Here, Eonald, Victor, Jack, what are you doin’ 
on there ? ” he called, as he unbent to whet his scythe, 
and found the boys industriously working, carrying 
armfuls of freshly cut grass upon the shaven front 
lawn. 

“We ’re helping you, Mr. Green,” said Eonald. 
a We ’re piling it up in nice hay -cocks for you.” 


12 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

Bring that grass right back here/’ said Mr. 
Green, ^ ^ and don’t be littering up the lawn that way. 
I reckon I shall have to rake that lawn clean over 
now.” 

We ’ll rake it up for you,” said Victor. Where ’s 
the rake, Amy ? ” 

Amy was out at the side door, giving Mr. Green’s 
Schneider a nice plateful of breakfast, as she often 
did, for she and Schneider were great friends. Schnei- 
der was a funny little mop of a Scotch terrier, so 
homely as to be almost handsome, and very intelligent 
and affectionate. He knew as well as anybody who 
his friends were, and always wagged his stump of a 
tail so vigorously when he saw Amy, that he wagged 
all over. When Mr. Green went off to the city, and 
forbade Schneider’s following, he usually found com- 
fort in lying under the bushes on Amy’s premises 
until his master’s return. 

It ’s down in the stable,” said Amy. ‘‘ I ’ll get it 
for you as soon as I feed Schneider.” 

Schneider ’s such an ugly dog,” said Victor. I 
don’t see what you want to feed him for. He is n’t 
half as handsome as Count, or Duke either.” 

But he ’s so nice, are n’t you, Schneider ? Good 
little Schneider,” said Amy, patting Schneider’s sides, 
now swollen with breakfast. 

Schneider wagged his tail rapturously at these 
pleasing remarks, and then waddled over to snooze 
contentedly in the cool shade of the maples, but 
with one eye open, to watch every motion of Mr. 
Green. 

Meantime, Mr. Green discovered Dixon and Jack 
careering about in the tall, unmown grass. 


“ Farming.'** 


13 


‘^Come right out of that ere grass/’ he called. 

What are ye in there for, tramping it down so I 
can’t cut it ? ” 

^^This is an Indian jungle,” explained Dixon, who 
had invented this fine game. ‘^Jack’s an elephant, 
and I am a ferocious tiger, and I ’m going to spring 
out on him and devour him. Woo-o-o ! ” roared 
Dixon, springing on Jack. Over and over rolled the 
boys, matting down the grass. Jack was not inclined 
to be meekly devoured, but pounded Dixon until the 
tiger roared in earnest. 

^^Now you stop that. Jack Neale,” said Dixon. 

You hurt me.” 

^‘It’s my trunk I’m pounding you with,” said 
Jack. Elephants always pound with their trunks.” 

You play too hard. I don’t want to play this 
way,” said Dixon, beginning to cry, and starting for 
home to tell his mother, none too soon, for Mr. Green 
was coming down the hill with huge strides, fire in 
his eye. For so clumsy an animal, the elephant 
slipped over the back fence into the Goldschmidt’s 
yard with remarkable agility. 

^‘Now all you boys clar right out,” said Mr. Green, 
with emphasis. “ Mrs. Strong ’s in a hurry about this 
mowing, and I can’t be bothered with you boys round 
under foot any more.” 

We ’ll help you, Mr. Green,” said Konald. “ Can’t 
we just rake up that grass for you ? ” 

No, clar out, all o’ ye. I can’t stand so much help. 
When the grass is all cut, you can play in it, if Mrs. 
Strong is willing.” 

I ’ll let you know, Eonald,” said Amy, when it ’s 
all cut, and then we ’ll have lots of fun.” 


14 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

The boys reluctantly went away, peace reigned on 
the hillside, and Amy went into the house to get her 
practising out of the way before afternoon. 

By and by, Mrs. Strong, who was at work up stairs, 
thought she heard the notes of a violin. Looking out 
her window, she saw an old man, a wandering min- 
strel, who had come up on the side steps, and was 
playing. Presently Amy ran upstairs into her 
mother’s room, her blue eyes all aglow with pity and 
eagerness. 

• I was sitting by papa’s desk drawing,” she said, 

and a poor old man came up the side steps, and 
began playing to me. Please give me some money 
for him, mamma. He plays beautifully, and he is so 
old, and looks so poor.” 

^‘I’ve nothing less than a two dollar bill, Amy,” 
said her mother, examining her purse. I remember 
now, I paid my last change to the vegetable man this 
morning.” 

Then I will give him some of my money,” said 
Amy, running into her own room. 

The minstrel played so long, going over his whole 
repertoire twice, that Mrs. Strong’s suspicions were 
aroused, and when at last he went away, she asked 
Amy, — 

How much money did you give him ? ” 

A quarter,” said Amy. 

Why Amy, that was too much. Five or ten cents 
would have been ample. What did he say ? ” 

He said, ‘ What make^ you give me so much ? ’ 
I said ‘Because you are such an old man.’ Then he 
looked pleased, and said, ‘Thank you kindly, little 
miss.’ ” 


^‘Farming."*' 


15 


Mrs. Strong well knew how tender Amy’s loving 
heart was towards the poor, towards animals and little 
children, towards all that needed help or protection. 
When she and her mother were in the city together, 
she thought her mother very hard-hearted because 
she passed the lame man playing the accordion on the 
the sidewalk near Shillito’s, and all the other beggars, 
without giving them anything. 

‘‘Why don’t you give him something, mamma?” 
she always pleaded. 

After luncheon, the children gathered on the hill- 
side to play in the hay. Mr. Green was not there, 
and Mrs. Strong sympathized too strongly with their 
fun to interfere unless they really did something quite 
unallowable, so there was nothing to hinder their 
sport. 

“ Let ’s make a great bird’s nest,” proposed Amy. 

The children brought armfuls of hay up the hill, 
working manfully in the hot sun. Perspiration ran 
down Eob’s face as he plied the rake. As it tickled 
his face, he rubbed it with his hands. Cincinnati 
grass being usually somewhat sooty, Eob’s hands were 
anything but white, and his face soon wore a coat of 
color that caused Kitty to say, 

“ Eob Clover ! How you do look ! You are as 
black as Mr. Green.” 

“ You need n’t laugh at me,” said Eob, as the 
children began to laugh. “ You ’re all as black 
as I am. Kitty has a black spot on the end of 
her nose. I don’t care how I look. I ’m having a 
good time.” 

“We can play we are crows,” said Irene. 

Duke was in the very thick of the fun, galloping 


16 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

up and down the hill, barking, and acting as if he 
wanted to carry hay himself. Rob threw a large arm- 
full of hay on him, completely burying him. 

I should n’t think you would treat Duke so, Rob,” 
said Amy. 

Oh, he does n’t mind it. He likes it, don’t you, 
old boy ? ” 

Duke, struggling out from under the hay, barked 
and bounced about, entering into the fun as if he were 
a boy himself. 

When the big nest was done, Amy said, 

‘‘Now all you younger children must get into the 
nest and be little birds.” 

The children all climbed over into the hollow left 
in the centre of the hay. Duke too scrambled in with 
the rest, and sat in the midst, his mouth joyfully open 
in a kind of amiable dog smile. 

“ Do look at Duke,” said Kitty. “ Is n’t he a funny 
bird?” 

“Now Rob and Kitty and Irene and I will be the 
father and mother birds, and fly away and bring you 
food,” said Amy. 

Mrs. Strong, looking out the bay window, thought 
the children made a pretty sight. Nestled in the 
circle of hay, nothing could be seen of them but their 
heads; brown heads, black heads, golden heads, curly 
heads, and straight locks, with Duke’s handsome brown 
head in the midst. Amy, Irene and Kitty, in their 
bright gingham dresses, their heads bare, their hair 
flying out as they ran up 'and down, fluttering their 
arms for wings, tried in vain to appease the hunger 
of their little ones, who, with open mouths, kept up 
loud cries of “Peep, peep,” “Caw, caw,” “Cock-a. 


Farming."*^ 


17 


doodle-doo,” while Duke, animated by the tumult, 
barked loudly. Rob, meantime, was sitting comfort- 
ably up in Amy’s tree seat. 

I don’t think it ’s fair for the father bird not to 
work any,” said Kitty. “ You ought to come and 
help us, Rob. We can’t get enough for the little 
birds to eat, even if we fly like lightning.” 

Caw, caw,” Peep, peep,” “ Bow wow,” came 
from the nest louder than ever at this. 

“ Poor little things, they are starving,” said Amy, 
flying with a leaf in each hand to the nest. 

“ Are n’t you coming to help us, Rob ? ” asked 
Kitty. 

^^I’ve flown up here to keep watch and see if an 
enemy is coming,” said Rob. “ Crows always have a 
sentinel.” 

An enemy was indeed coming, for down the hill 
from the street now came running Ben Bruce, Paul 
Williams, Ked Frazier, and two of the Barr boys. 
They too had a mind to play in the hay. But the 
big boys played so roughly. The first thing they did 
was to snatch up hay and completely bury the bird- 
lings in the nest in spite of their loud cries and strug- 
gles. When Rob, Kitty, and the rest flew to the defence 
of their nest, they too were stifled in hay. Then they 
knocked each other down, and tried to bury each other 
up in hay. 

Mrs. Strong, attracted by the tumult, came to her 
window to see hay being strewn about the lawn, 
driveway, everywhere it ought not to be. Her call 
from the window, and the suddeti appearance of Mr. 
Green, put the enemy to flight. Messengers began to 
arrive to call the younger children home, because it 

2 


18 


A Jolly Grood Summer. 

was time for them to be civilized for dinner, after 
Saturday’s long play, by baths and clean clothes. 

“Don’t you and Kitty go quite yet,” whispered 
Amy to Irene. “I want to show you something 
pretty.” 

When the younger children were safely off, Amy 
said, 

“ Girls, Mrs. Chickabod has hatched at last. She 
has seven beautiful little chickens. Is n’t that splen- 
did ? Mr. Green is going to put her in a coop for me 
now. I did n’t want the little children to know about it 
because they always want to hold the chickens, and 
that troubles the old hen and makes her anxious.” 

The girls went down to the stable, an^ watched 
Mr. Green take Mrs. Chickabod off her nest, and 
install her in a spacious coop in Palace Court, as Amy 
called that part of the driveway near the stable where 
her hen-coops stood. They helped Amy catch the 
little downy balls of chickens to carry out to the 
distressed mother. 

“Did you ever see anything so sweet?” said Amy, 
in whose fond eyes the last brood of chickens was 
always the most charming. 

“They are really too cunning for anything,” said 
Irene. 

“ What are you going to call them, Amy ? ” asked 
Kitty. The names of Amy’s chickens were sure to 
be interesting. 

“Why, they are just seven, you know, so I call 
them Mrs. Chickabod’s Week.” 

“ Mrs. Chickabod’s Week ! ” exclaimed Kitty. “ How 
queer.” 

“ Oh, no. They are Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 


Farming r 


19 


Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I know 
every one of them. That spry little one, who always 
crowds in first, and gets the best of everything for 
himself, is Monday. That sorry little one that the 
old hen stepped on, is Friday. He seems very un- 
lucky. Saturday is all black, to contrast with Sun- 
day, that pure white one. Thursday has white spots 
on his wings, that round, brown little fellow is Tues- 
day, and Wednesday has a black tail and wings.’’ 

What made you give them such odd names ? ” 
asked Irene. Why did n’t you give them romautic 
names, like your other chickens ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, have n’t I told you ? ” said Amy. It is so 
unfortunate. Queen Anne, Lady Kowena, and Vic- 
toria hav^ all turned out to be roosters! And so has 
Mother Dorcas. I’ve changed his name to Dorcas 
Boy. They are all getting little combs, and their 
tails are sprouting out so comically, and Lady 
Bowena tries to crow. It is so funny to hear him ! 
He feels so important, and he gives such a weak, 
squawky crow. I mean after this, to give all my 
chickens names that will fit any one.” 

^‘That’s a good plan,” said Irene. ^^But I must 
run home now, and dress for dinner.” 

Any one seeing the Hillside Avenue children nt 
their Saturday afternoon play, in the old cloth('s 
reserved by their wise mothers for that day, would 
hardly have believed them the same young folks, 
when, after dinner, washed, curled *and brushed, tlie 
little girls pften in white dresses, they strolled up 
and down the quiet street in the pleasant dusk of the 
summer evening, or played about' the lawns, a pretty 
sight.^ 


20 


A Jolly Crood Summer, 


CHAPTER II. 


FAIRYLAND. 


HE Hillside Avenue children who attended 



1 the Sunday school of Dr. Taylor’s church 
usually planned to walk up together Sundays. The 
clan gathered on the way, till there was quite a gi*oup 
of the little friends chatting pleasantly along as they 
walked, and a very perceptible swelling of the Sunday 
School ranks when the Hillside Avenue delegation 
walked in. 

One pleasant June morning, Dr. Taylor talked to 
the Sunday School children about flowers, taking for 
his text the flowers that the children had just brought 
in. He told them something about the magniflcence 
of King Solomon of old. Then he had Max Gold- 
schmidt write on the board this verse, which the 
children read in concert several times, until they 
were able to repeat it with the board turned away 
from them, face to the wall. 

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow ; 
they toil not neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto 
you that even Solomon in all his glory was not ar' 
rayed like one of these.” 

Who said this ? ” asked Dr. Taylor. 

J esus,” replied several voices. 


Fairyland. 21 

I^ow, children/’ said Dr. Taylor, I want you to 
find out for yourselves and tell me next Sunday 
whether Jesus really intended to say that the wild 
lilies, or any flower, were more beautiful than the 
gorgeous robes of King Solomon, or whether this 
saying was only what we call a figure of speech, — a 
strong way of putting a statement ; as, for instance, 
when a boy says, ^ My feet are frozen,’ when he only 
means they are very cold ; or when a girl tells her 
mother, ‘ I shall die, I know I shall, if I have to do 
all these problems to-night. There ’s at least a hun- 
dred of them ! ’ when she merely means that she has 
more problems to do than she enjoys.” 

Amy and Kitty exchanged smiles at this. 

‘‘If you have a magnifying glass,” continued Dr. 
Taylor, “when you go home examine the flowers 
through it, and then the finest ribbons, silks, and 
stuffs that you can find. Then, next Sunday, tell me 
whether you think Jesus meant that verse you have 
learned for an exact statement or not. Kow rise, and 
we will sing, 

“ Hark ! the lilies whisper 
Tenderly and low, 

In our grace and beauty, 

See how fair we grow. 

“ Hark ! the roses speaking,, 

Telling aU abroad. 

Their sweet, wondrous story 
Of the love of God.” 

Amy, who had listened intently, was greatly inter- 
ested in this suggestion, and resolved to try the 
experiment that very afternoon with her father’s 


22 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

magnifying glass. Soon after dinner, she secured the 
glass, and taking it, with bits of the choicest satin, 
silk, velvet, and lace from the treasures of her piece- 
bag, where she stored all sorts of odds and ends for 
dolls’ clothes, went out into the flower-garden. 

Mrs. Strong was seated on a garden bench reading 
in what she called her summer parlor, under the thick 
shade of a group of young maples one side the flower- 
beds, behind a large rhododendron bush that concealed 
her from passers by. The cool shade of the maples 
fell waveringly on her book, as a gentle south breeze 
blew fitfully, wafting mingled sweet odors of lilies, 
mignonette, and heliotrope from the flower beds*; and 
if, now and then, a green and yellow spider, a black 
cricket, or insect of some unknown species ran across 
the book’s pages, or ventured up the reader’s white 
dress skirt, it seemed only a part of the friendliness 
of Mother Nature, assuring the intruder, ^^You are 
one of us.” 

Amidst this surrounding sense of nature’s peace 
and beauty, Mrs. Strong read on, pleasantly conscious 
all the time of the presence of her little daughter flit- 
ting about among the flower-beds, looking, in her 
white dress and with her sunny, flowing hair, like a 
new species of white and yellow butterfly, as she 
hovered now over this flower, now over that. 

By and by, Amy, with her dress skirt held up full 
of flowers and leaves, came and sat down on the bench 
beside her mother, greeted only with a loving smile, 
as Mrs. Strong looked up a moment from her book, 
and then read on. 

Oh, mamma ! ” she exclaimed presently. Do 
please stop reading and look through this glass a 


Fairyland, 23 

minute. You never saw anything so wonderful ! It 
is exactly as Dr. Taylor said. The flowers are far 
the most beautiful. See, — the more you magnify a 
rose leaf, the flner and more wonderful it is. Only 
look into the heart of this spider lily, and see how 
pretty those little things in the centre look through 
the glass.” 

“ Those are the stamens and pistil,” said Mrs. 
Strong, as she put her eye to the glass. 

Oh, yes, I remember. You told me that once be- 
fore. And see how dainty and pretty each tiny 
flower on this stalk of mignonette is, magnifled. 
The leaves of this white lily are so silken and gor- 
geous. See the pretty specked spots on this catalpa 
blossom. Even the green leaves are beautiful. You 
can see all the network of little veins running about, 
and yet the leaf looks just as flne and silky when it is 
magnified. Do look at the under side of this begonia 
leaf. Is n’t it beautiful, all covered with thousands 
of silvery hairs, and such lovely coloring in the veins 
that you can’t see without the glass ? ” 

Yes, the flowers are really wonderfully beautiful 
examined through the glass,” said Mrs. Strong, be- 
coming herself so fascinated that she quite forgot her 
book, and entered into Amy’s new enthusiasm in the 
most satisfactory manner. ‘^It is like peeping into 
another world.” 

Is n’t it ? ” said Amy. Just like peeping through 
a little window into the heart of fairyland, and spying 
out all the fairies’ secrets. Now I want you to look 
at some of King Solomon’s raiment.” 

Her mother smiled at this. 

Ah now, you need n’t laugh, mamma. Of course 


24 A Jolly Qood Summer, 

he must have worn silks, and velvets, and satins. 
Then I suppose he wore cloth of gold too, he was 
such a magnificent king. I have a little bit of gold 
embroidery that Cousin Elizabeth gave me. I am 
saving it to make the Countess Composilici’s court 
train. Look at it through the glass. Did you ever 
see anything so coarse and scratchy looking ? ’’ 

Now I want you,” continued Amy, all animation, 
for there is nothing so delightful as discovering things 
for oneself, ^‘to look at this piece of blue velvet. 
Does n’t it look exactly like a carpet ? And these 
bits of silk and ribbon look as coarse as old blankets? 
all great lumpy threads, coarsely matted together. 
And this lace that I thought so fine and delicate 
looks like a strainer. The prettiest cloths I can find 
look coarse and ugly through the glass, but every 
leaf and flower is only more lovely the more it is 
magnified. So it is really true, you see, that the 
flowers were arrayed much more beautifully than 
King Solomon.” 

‘‘Yes,” said her mother, “there is no comparison 
between the works of God and the attempts of man. 
That is the idea which Dr. Taylor meant to impress 
upon you. The more closely we study any natural 
object the more wonderful it grows, the more we find 
yet to learn, and the more are we awed by a sense of 
the great wonder-working power behind all nature.” 

“I am going to examine everything,” said Amy, 
“ and see if that is really as true of other things as of 
flowers.” 

So she went about with her magnifying glass, ex- 
amining first pebbles from the driveway, — pebbles 
whose rough crevices and holes proved to be won- 


Fairyland. 25 

derful caves and grottos, lined with sparkling 
crystals. 

“ It is exactly as if I were a fairy, and waved my 
magic wand over them,’^ thought Amy, delighted at 
the new world of which she was catching glimpses, 
the world too delicate and fine for our gross eyes. 

Then she put the glass on a tree trunk and peeped 
through. 

“ Oh, mamma ! ’’ she cried, ‘‘ this white, scaly stuff 
where the bark is rough is really eggs, a nest full of 
tiny, oblong, white eggs ! And while I was looking, a 
little ant ran under the glass. You ought to have 
seen what a monster he looked. Oh, I think this is 
so interesting ! ” 

Amy ran about until she was tired, with the glass 
at her eye, examining everything, even to the fur of 
Prince, the cat, which looked, she said, like a tropi- 
cal forest.’’ 

‘^Even a chicken’s feather is pretty, magnified,” 
she said. See, mamma. Please look once more. 
This is one of my dear Dorcas Boy’s cunning white 
feathers. Now I know what makes them hold to- 
gether so strongly and smoothly. Each little feather- 
let has tiny hooks, and fits into its neighbor so closely 
you can hardly pull them apart.” 

“That is what makes Dorcas Boy’s rain cloak so 
tight and waterproof,” said her mother. “ You pity 
the chickens when you see them out in the rain, all 
dripping. But their feathers shed the rain much bet- 
ter than your umbrella.” 

At last Amy, tired of running about, mounted into 
her tree seat, taking with her several books, her 
drawing-block and pencil, and box of colored crayons. . 


26 A Jolly Good Summer. 

She always felt rich with many books around her, 
even if she did not read them all, for, as she phrased 
it, she loved to wallow in books.’’ She was very 
fond of this seat high up in the group of ailanthus 
trees, that her brother Philip had made her when she 
was much younger. To-day it seemed particularly 
pleasant. The flower garden looked like a many- 
colored Persian rug spread on the greed sward, with 
all the bright reds and pinks, yellows and various 
greens of roses, geraniums, marigolds, and California 
poppies. The roses were beginning to fade, but the 
tall white lily stalks stood up all over the beds, like 
pure white fairies, Amy thought, and "the catalpa 
tree on the front lawn, Amy’s favorite tree for climb- 
ing, rose up against the dark green of the other trees, 
a white dome of flowers. 

Mr. Green’s hay filled the air with sweetness, and 
up in the tree, over Amy’s head, a robin lit and 
poured his joy out in fearless song, knowing, it 
seemed, the kindness filling the little girl’s heart for 
all living things. Amy wished she had one of his 
bright breast-feathers to examine through the magni- 
fying glass ; but the robin was not so obliging as to 
shed even a featherlet. Instead, he flew down to 
join his mate on the new-mown patch on the hillside, 
all alive to-day with chickens, robins, and big purple- 
black grackles hopping about, intent on catching the 
insects whose hidden homes had been ruthlessly ex- 
posed by the cutting of their grass shelter. Amy, 
with her white dress, her flowing bright hair, and 
her pure, innocent face, framed in by the green 
leaves, fitted well into the peaceful picture. 

Pirst she read a while in ^‘The Last of the 


Fairyland. 27 

Mohicans,” which gave her an agreeable sense of 
wild life in the unbroken wilderness. Then she 
drew a picture of an unspeakably lovely maiden be.- 
ing dragged away into captivity by two Indians, on 
whom all the hues of the colored crayon box were 
lavished to make them sufficiently blood-thirsty. 
Then she began to write a story. Absorbed in this, 
she was suddenly startled by having the slipper 
pulled off the foot which swayed to and fro in the 
ardor of composition. 

“Oh!” screamed Amy, jumping up, “what’s 
that ? ” 

Kitty came laughing from behind the tree. 

“ Here ’s your slipper,” she said. “ I wanted to 
see if I could get it without your noticing. You 
never know anything when you are reading or* draw- 
ing. What are you doing now ? ” 

“I’ve almost finished a story,” said Amy. “Come 
up here, and I will read it to you.” 

Kitty, glad to have Sunday afternoon so agreeably 
beguiled, willingly climbed up into the seat, which 
was quite large enough for three little girls. 

Amy’s story bore this imposing heading. 

“THE MAGICAL KITE. 

BY AMY STRONG, AUTHOR OF ‘ MY DOGGIE, &C., &C.’ ” 

“Once upon a time (for all stories begin that 
way), there was a king called King Crombercross, 
because he was so cross, and then, besides, he was 
very changeable, .and ‘cromber’ meant changeable, in 
the subjects’ language. The king did not know what 
the word meant, but, as it sounded very grand to him. 


28 A Jolly Good Summer. 

he thought it was a compliment, and smiled to him- 
self when he thought how respectful his courtiers 
were. He naturally grew very vain, and thought 
there was nothing he could not do or say. What 
was worse, he thought the whole world belonged to 
him, and had to mind him. Of course this was very 
wrong, but the poor king had no one to tell him 
better, so I do not think it was entirely his fault. 

“ The queen was as bad as the king, and so were half 
the courtiers, but the subjects were as good as any one. 
The kingdom did not flourish, though, because the 
bad courtiers would tell dreadful stories to their bad 
king about the good subjects, and the king was too 
lazy to tend to trying them himself ; so he would turn 
them over to the bad judges, who were also too lazy 
to try them, so they would order them to be executed, 
and supposed that was the end of it. But it was not, 
for the executioners were too lazy to execute them ; 
so they let the men go, and they ran away, and 
never came back to King Crombercross’s kingdom. 

“ One day the whole kingdom was draped in dark 
red and olive green (the royal colors), and there was 
music and dancing, and every one was saying, ^ Have 
you seen the royal prince yet ? ’ ^ Have you heard 
how beautiful his royal majesty is ? ’ or ^ Have you 
heard how angry the queen is ? ’ 

^ How angry the queen is ! ’ you exclaim. Yes, 
and the king too ; for they had always wanted a 
daughter so that she could marry the king of the 
next country, so that he would not make so much war 
with their country ; and now it was a son. Ko words 
could express their indignation ; but of course they 
did not wish to show it before the court, so they gave 


Fairyland, 29 

a great ball, and invited all the men, women, and 
children in the kingdom to come and see the little 
prince. 

If beauty, happiness, strength, love for all, and 
wealth make a prince, this boy was surely a prince in 
the fullest sense of the word. Any one would know 
he was a prince if he had not had a rag, or a cent in his 
pocket, because his manner was so noble. 

Well, the prince grew and grew, until he was 
finally twelve years old, and at that age all boys love 
to fly kites. At twelve years Prince Raymond was 
a handsome lad of about four feet tall, with a beauti- 
ful complexion, curly brown hair, and, what was his 
greatest beauty, a pair of clear brown eyes that looked 
straight at you. Slim, bright, possessed of all his 
senses, and a prince, Raymond should have been the 
happiest boy in the world; but with all his gifts, 
happiness was not one of them. Just now the king 
and queen feigned to love him, because they had 
planned that he should marry the neighboring king’s 
daughter, and so inherit that kingdom. The prince 
knew what his father was planning, and it made him 
very unhappy, for he did not like the princess, who 
was very ugly, and cruel, and bad. But he did not 
say anything, because he thought when the time came 
he would run away to another country where his 
father would never find him. The king now showed 
him every attention, and sent all over the country for 
new toys for him. 

“ One day, when the messengers came back with the 
prince’s new toys, they brought word that the neigh- 
boring king was going to make war against King 
Crombercross unless he let Prince Raymond marry 


30 A Jolly Good Summer. 

his daughter right away. King Crombercross imme- 
diately called Prince Kaymond to him and instructed 
him how to behave, and then told him he could have 
one hour’s play before he went. 

Among the new toys that had just arrived was a 
large kite, and the prince thought he would fly it 
before he went. As he saw the kite floating far 
above his head, he said, — 

^ Oh, if I were only with you, kite, away from care 
and sorrow, then I would not have to marry the 
princess I despise. But alas, that wish is vain.’ 

He sighed, but suddenly stopped in the middle of 
his sigh, for the kite suddenly opened the mouth that 
was painted on it, and said in a hoarse voice, (Amy 
spelled it horse,” but that made no difference in her 
own and Kitty’s intense interest in the tale), — 
^^^Your wish is not in vain, young prince. I was 
made on purpose to rescue you from so great an un- 
happiness as would be your fate otherwise.’ 

There was something very remarkable about this 
kite. It was very large, very, and on its enormous 
surface was painted a face the features of which were 
in good comparison with the size of the kite. Bay- 
mond knew enough of art to know that an Egyptian 
artist must have painted it, and a good many hundred 
years ago, too. There was a strange mixture of old 
Egyptian art and a sort of mermaiden character about 
it, for the tail of the kite was made of sea moss, and 
a fringe of the same hung over the head. Prince 
Kaymond noticed when he flew the kite, that the long 
tail took various shapes, nearly all of sea monsters, 
which dived in the air as if they were in the sea. 

When the kite opened its mouth, the blue October 


Fairyland, 81 

sky shone through it. The kite seemed to look down 
on the prince in a very fatherly, meaning way, which 
made him feel a strange awe, though the look was 
very kind and beneficent. 

‘ Listen,’ said the kite. ‘ I am many centuries 
old. I have been waiting, waiting patiently, and 
learning wisdom always, until I should find my 
master, whom the old prophets in Egypt told me of, 
and now, after many, many centuries, I have at last 
found him.’ 

“ The kite heaved a long sigh, which made it quiver 
in the air, which was warm with the golden sunshine. 
Away in the meadows came the sound of a horn. It 
was the mid-day horn, a sign for the reapers to rest 
from their labors. It seemed to rouse the kite, for 
he shook himself and said, — 

‘ Make haste. I can already see the messenger 
they send to call you. Hold on to my tail. We have 
tarried too long. We are both in danger of being 
discovered ! ’ 

Prince Raymond took hold of the kite’s tail, and 
immediately felt himself rising in the air. The sen- 
sation was a very curious one ; but after a while he 
got used to it, and enjoyed it. He tied the tail of 
the kite around his waist so he would not have to 
think of holding on, and the mighty kite soared away 
into the blue depths of the sky, and among the fleecy 
white clouds. 

The kite did not speak and neither did Raymond, 
for the beauty and stillness were too beautiful to be 
broken by words ; the intense blue above, the blue 
rivers, fertile green meadows, mighty forests and 
tossing oceans, small villages, busy cities, a lonely 


32 A Jolly Crood Summer. 

hermitage surrounded by forests, fashionable country 
resorts, an English lord’s castle, surrounded with 
parks in which the deer gambolled among the trees, 
or hares ran startled to their homes under the ferns, 
where cool fountains splashed against their marble 
margin ; or again they saw a crowded tenement where 
lived poor, cast-off wretches, only wretchedness, but 
owned by the same lord. Or over burning deserts, 
where perhaps along the dreary waste of sand there 
slowly toiled a caravan of merchants going to India, 
risking their lives under the scorching sun for 
wealth, — ” 

Here Amy paused a moment to take breath, and 
Kitty said, 

I wish you would go on and tell what became of 
Prince Eaymond. I don’t care much for this part.” 

Why, don’t you ? ” said Amy. I think this is 
the best part. It is so fascinating to imagine your- 
self floating through the sky, looking down on the 
whole world.” And she continued : 

— ‘‘or through a mountain glen, where beside a 
rivulet falling tumultuously over moss-covered boul- 
ders, stood a little cottage, not grand like the noble- 
man’s castle, but beautiful in the great love and 
charity within it. 

“ So they travelled on and on till it became quite 
dark ; but still the kite did not stop, and the prince 
began to think he should starve, when he saw the 
kite was slowly sinking to the ground, and finally it 
fell on the earth, apparently exhausted. They were 
on a small island which was alone in the middle of 
the Indian Ocean. On the ocean was a strange-look- 
ing ship with foreign sailors climbing up its masts. 


Fairyland, 33 

But the ship passed by, and Prince Raymond was left 
alone with the Magical Kite. 

It was now dark, and Prince Raymond was wonder- 
ing what he was to do, when he saw a light a little 
way off. Going to the spot, he saw a procession of 
figures all in white, deeply veiled. They each bore 
a torch, and as they drew near, they perceived him. 
At their head, and apparently leading them, was a 
figure clothed entirely in white, who acted like a 
queen, whom all the other women obeyed. When she 
saw Prince Raymond she lifted her veil, and the 
prince beheld a most beautiful princess with a crown 
on her head made of every gem or jewel that was 
ever found. Her dress was all the colors of the 
rainbow — ” 

“ You just said that she was dressed all in white,” 
objected Kitty. 

That was because her veil was white, and covered 
her dress,” said Amy. — 

She took the prince by the hand, and led him to 
the kite, for the kite had survived. The kite imme- 
diately exclaimed, 

^ It is the beautiful Princess Gondolia ! We are 
indeed fortunate to have met her.’ 

The rest of what he said was not audible, for his 
voice sank as he spoke, as if he were thinking of 
something a long way off. 

‘ You are my deliverer,’ said the princess, ^ and 
must do exactly as the kite says, for it is the 
wisest kite in the world.’ — That’s all,” said Amy, 
stopping abruptly. 

“Why, that ’s too bad ! ” exclaimed Kitty ; “ just as 
it was most interesting.” 


3 


34 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

I can tell you how it ’s going to end/’ said Amy. 

Of course Prince Eaymond immediately falls in 
love with the Princess Gondolia — ” 

Of course/’ said Kitty. 

And he has to fight the most terrible battles you 
can imagine, to deliver her from a wicked enchanter 
who has her in his power. Then they are married, 
and the kite takes them back to King Crombercross’s 
land, where they find that the good subjects have 
risen up and killed the wicked king and queen. The 
subjects give a grand reception to their favorite, Prince 
Kaymond, and his lovely bride, and then they all live 
happily forever after.” 

That ’s a very good story,” said Kitty. 

Here the Clover’s tea-bell rang. 

^^Do come over after tea, Kitty,” said Amy. “I 
want to talk over our lawn fgte.” 

Do you think we can have one this year ? ” said 
Kitty. “ I thought your mother said she could n’t 
have it here again because we wore off the grass so 
last year. And my mother doesn’t want it, and I 
don’t believe Mrs. Dawson does.” 

I have a new plan,” said Amy, whose active brain 
was always teeming with plans and ideas. “Come 
over as soon as you get through tea, and we will talk 
it all over.” 


Amy^s New Plan, 


35 


CHAPTEE III. 


Amy's new plan. 



INNEE being at noon on Sunday, the light tea 


I J was soon over. After tea, Irene came over, 
and she, Amy, and Kitty sat on the Strong's porch 
steps to hear Amy’s plans for the lawn f§te. 

Two years before, in the summer vacation, when 
the children wanted something new to do, they had 
decided to hold a fair in the Clover’s stable, for the 
benefit of the Fresh Air Fund,” they told their 
mothers. Mrs. Clover gave Eob and Kitty an old 
rug to spread on the floor, and the children worked so 
hard to decorate the walls with flags, strips of bright 
cloth, and green boughs, that they succeeded in trans- 
forming the stable into quite a fairy bower. The 
mothers considered the “ fair ” only one of the chil- 
dren’s many games, like circus ” or Indian ” or 
‘^house-keeping,” or whatever happened to be their 
fancy for the time. One cent admission was charged. 

Greatly to every one’s surprise, the children actually 
made six dollars and sixty-four cents, which sum was 
duly forwarded to the Fresh Air Fund, and formally 
acknowledged by the secretary. 

The following summer, Amy said to her mother, 

“ We want to have a lawn fete this year. May we 
have it on our lawn, mamma ? ” 


36 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Strong, not taking the affair at all 
seriously, thinking it only one of Amy’s many large 
schemes, which often came to naught, only lasting till 
some new idea struck her fertile fancy. 

She will probably work for the fete a few days, 
and then forget all about it,” thought her mother, 
quite easy about her promise. 

But when, a week before the day set for the fete, 
Mrs. Strong found that Amy and her friends had been 
industriously selling tickets for it all over the neigh- 
borhood, and that the proceeds, even at the moderate 
price of three cents for grown folk and one cent for 
children, already amounted to three dollars and a 
half, she felt it time to bestir herself. 

“ If half Edgeton are coming to our place Saturday 
afternoon, expecting to find a fete, evidently we must 
try to have something for them,” she said. 

I told you, mamma, all the time, this was going to 
be a real fete,” said Amy. Kitty and I have made 
ever so many fancy articles. We mean to make a 
great deal of money this year, twice as much as we 
did last.” 

The mothers, finding the children were really in 
earnest, now took hold at the last moment, and aided 
their efforts. The Strong’s lawn was beautiful that 
Saturday afternoon in June, with a long row of Japa- 
nese lanterns that Mrs. Herndon loaned, swaying on 
a cord stretched from tree to tree across the front, 
with bright flags fluttering, and two white tents under 
the trees, the tables gayly decorated, and the place 
swarming with children and even a good many grown 
folks. 

The proceeds of this fete amounted to over twenty- 


87 


Amy^s New Plan. 

nine dollars. The children were overjoyed with this 
success, especially when the secretary of the Fresh 
Air Society sent out tickets, making each little worker 
an honorary member of the society for a year. But 
there was no more grass on the Strong’s front lawn 
that year. Worn bare and trampled, especially around 
the spot where the fancy table had stood, it looked 
like a public-school yard. 

Now that all the children would so soon be out of 
school, Amy felt that it was time to begin working 
for another fete. But her mother did not eagerly wel- 
come the idea of another f§te on their own lawn, nor 
indeed did any of the mothers on the avenue seem to 
want it. 

am entirely willing you should have a fete, 
Amy,” said her mother. Indeed, I think it a good 
thing for you children to do. But I fear you will not 
be able to find a suitable place for it. Our lawn has 
hardly recovered yet, although your father had Mr. 
Green sow grass-seed all over it last fall.” 

Knowing this coolness of the mothers towards their 
pet scheme, Kitty and Irene were naturally anxious 
to hear Amy’s plan. 

Oh, I do so hope we can have the f^te. It must 
be such fun,” said Irene, who had not been living in 
Edgeton when the last memorable fete occurred. 

It is, lots of fun,” said Kitty. “ I teased mother 
to let me *have it, but our front lawn is smaller than 
Amy’s and all lies right in front of the house. 
Mother says there would n’t be a spear of grass left 
on it, and I guess she is right.” 

Laura says her mother can’t have it there,” said 
Irene. . “I don’t see what we are to do.” 


38 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

have thought of the very best place on the 
avenue, if we can only get it,’’ said Amy. ‘‘You 
know Dr. Trimble’s place is right on the corner, and it 
is very large. And it runs down the hill, far from 
his house, to Grand Avenue. The fete could be 
mostly down the hill away from his house.” 

“Oh, what a lovely idea!” cried Kitty and Irene,’ 
clapping their hands for joy. “What a perfectly 
splendid place for it! But do you suppose Dr. 
Trimble will let us have it there ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Amy. “ Let ’s go right over 
and ask him about it.” 

The three girls went down the street, their arms 
around each other’s waists, their heads close together 
as they talked in low tones, with such an air of 
secrecy that Claribel, Lily, the little Goldschmidts 
and Neales and Boyds all perceived immediately that 
something of importance was in the wind, and, fired 
with curiosity, ran after them, crying, 

“ What is it ? Where are you all going ? What 
are you going to do ? May we go too ? ” 

“No, you can’t come now,” said Amy, “because we 
are going down to see Dr. Trimble on business. 
AVe’ll tell you all about it by and by.” 

The little folks had to content themselves with this, 
while the “big” girls marched on with all the im- 
portance becoming their mission. 

They found Dr. and Mrs. Trimble sitting on their 
broad side-porch which commanded a wide view of 
the western sky. Hillside Avenue was so overhung 
with elms that Dr. Trimble’s place was almost the 
only spot in summer where there was an unob- 
structed view of the sunset. The sky was radiant 


39 


Amy'% New Plan. 

to-night, radiant and peaceful, and its bright tints 
were reflected on the pale face and gray hair of Mrs. 
Trimble, a gentle, delicate lady, who greeted the 
children cordially, as did also, the doctor, a ruddy 
faced old gentleman, with snow-white hair and side 
whiskers. Lying on the ground out under the beech- 
tree, two of the Trimble boys were idly touching 
their mandolins, the tinkling music fitting well into 
the peacefulness of the evening. 

Dr. and Mrs. Trimble had no young children, 
but when their four grandchildren came on from 
Connecticut their place was always a popular resort 
for the children of the avenue, so the girls felt enough 
acquaintance to unfold their plans with confidence. 
Amy’s shyness made her push Kitty forward as 
spokesman. 

^^You see. Dr. Trimble,” explained Kitty, ^‘we 
thought this would be such a good place for the fete 
because it is on the corner. Of course all the Hillside 
Avenue people will come anyway. But here people 
going by on Grand Avenue will see it too, and come 
in. And we thought we could put most of the tables 
down the hill in the hollow, far away from the house, 
so it wouldn’t matter if the grass were a little 
worn.” 

When do you propose to have your fete ? ” asked 
the Doctor, his eyes twinkling through his glasses, as 
he looked at the eager little girls. 

Two weeks from next Saturday,” said Amy, for- 
getting to be shy in her eagerness about the fete. 
‘‘ We want to have it soon, before every one goes away 
for the summer.” 

<< Well, mother, what do you say ? ” said the Doctor, 


40 A Jolly Crood Summer. 

turning to his wife. Do you feel equal to giving a 
lawn fete ? 

If the children want it so much, I think we may 
as well let them have it here,’’ said Mrs. Trimble. I 
see no objections.” 

Neither do I,” said the Doctor. You may con- 
sider it settled then, girls.” 

Oh, thank you, thank you so much. Dr. Trimble,” 
cried the girls, as they ran joyfully off. 

The first thing was to run across the avenue to 
Laura Dawson’s and tell her the good news, and 
engage her to be sure and come over to Amy’s the 
next day, as soon as she and Kitty were home from 
school, to engage in the important work of appointing 
committees. Then they announced the great news of 
the coming festivity to all the children up and down 
the avenue, who were delighted, and hung about the 
girls to talk over their many plans. 

Amy saw Dr. Hough’s carriage standing before her 
house, and ran home to see her friends, the doctor 
and his wife. 

I did n’t know as I should see my little girl to- 
night,” said the Doctor, taking Amy’s slight hand 
affectionately in his big, strong clasp. What impor- 
tant plan are you busy about now ? ” 

Amy told Dr. Hough all about the proposed fete. 
Pulling out his pocket-book, the Doctor said, 

“ I must have two tickets to that lawn fete. How 
much are they, Amy ? ” 

‘WVe have raised the price this year to five cents 
for grown people,” said Amy. 

Can’t help it. I must have them,” said the Doctor. 
‘‘Oh, thank you, Dr. Hough,” said Amy, delighted 


41 


Amy^s New Plan. 

' to have already sold two tickets, and more than ever 
confident that the fgte would be a triumphant success. 
“I will give you the tickets as soon as they are 
printed. Ben Bruce and Bob are going to print them 
this week.’’ 

All right,” said the Doctor. 

Then he began tugging at his coat-tail pocket, while 
Amy’s eyes looked very expectant, for the Doctor’s 
pockets were reservoirs of treasures for her collection. 
Pulling out a package, the Doctor said. 

This is a piece of picture rock from Colorado for 
your cabinet. Do you see the hills and clouds and 
shrubs on it?” 

Oh, yes, plainly,” said Amy. “ Thank you so 
much. Dr. Hough. It looks like the most delicate 
painting.” 

^‘It was painted by the hand of the Great Artist, 
Amy,” said the Doctor. Hello ! ” he exclaimed, 
leaping up so suddenly that every one was startled. 
Seizing the straw hat from his head, while every one 
looked on in wonder, he clapped it up on the honey- 
suckle overhead, all hanging with blossoms that made 
the night air heavy with their fragrance. 

“ A night moth ! ” exclaimed the Doctor with much 
satisfaction, as he sat down with his captive in his 
hat. A fine specimen too. Come here, Amy, and 
see him.” 

Dr. Hough took the fluttering creature into the 
light that shone out the open door from the hall 
gas, and showed her the large, handsome moth, look- 
ing like a great gray butterfly. 

He looks like a gray ghost of a butterfly,” said 
Amy. ‘‘Butterflies are always so bright and gay.” 


42 A Jolly Good Summer, 

This is one of the owlet moths/’ said the Doctor, 
so called because they only fly at night like the owls. 
They fly swiftly, and it is hard to catch one. Their 
gray color is for a purpose. Have you never noticed, 
Amy, how often insects on plants are the color of the 
leaf or flower ? ” 

Yes,” said Amy. “ There ’s the funniest bright 
yellow and black spider that has spun his web for 
two summers over mamma’s yellow fleur-de-lis. He 
is exactly the color of the flowers.” 

And you will find green insects on green leaves, 
and brown bugs on brown stems. There is a worm 
called the ^walking stick’ that looks exactly like 
a stem of the tree he is on.” 

Ugh ! I picked one once,” said Amy, shuddering 
at the disagreeable recollection. 

You must n’t say ^ ugh ’ ” said the Doctor. Col- 
lectors must be interested in all natural objects. 
That walking stick is a very interesting fellow. But 
what I wanted to call your attention to now is that 
this similarity in color between insects and the 
flowers they frequent is for a special purpose ; to 
protect them from the sharp eyes of the birds that 
are always looking out for them.” 

I never thought of that,” said Amy. 

And so this night-moth is the color of the dusk, 
the twilight in which he flits about like a ghost, as' 
you well said. If he were white or bright yellow, 
bats and owls would see him more easily, and his 
chances of life would be much less. How we have 
examined him, we will let him fly back to his honey- 
cup.” 

But the released moth flew rapidly far away 


Amy^s New Plan^ 43 

from the dangerous vicinity of the tempting honey- 
suckle. 

When I was a boy, — began the Doctor, as he 
settled himself back comfortably in his rocking-chair. 

Amy pricked up her ears, for many interesting 
things had happened when Dr. Hough was a boy, 
almost equal to those great events of her father’s 
boyhood, of which she never tired. 

‘‘I was very fond of hunting,” continued the 
Doctor. ‘^At least I called it hunting. Many a 
time I came home at night with an empty game-bag, 
and still emptier stomach. I ’d give something now 
for the appetite I had then. The Cuvier Club’s 
dinners now don’t compare with my mother’s suppers 
then. But prowling around all day with my gun in 
the woods gave me a capital chance to study into the 
habits of birds and animals, which always interested 
me. Long before I read anything about it in books, 
I well knew how wise and cunning the wild creatures 
are in hiding or escaping from their enemies. I have 
often picked up beetles that would lie on their backs 
on my hand motionless as if dead, as long as I held 
them ; but let me drop them on the ground, and they 
were not long in vanishing. One day, by accident, 
I guess, I shot near enough to a little striped squirrel 
to stun it, I suppose. Anyway it fell out of the tree, 
and I picked it up, supposing it dead. I was surprised 
to find no wound on it. I laid it down on the leaves. 
It did not stir. I happened to turn around and walk 
off a few steps. When I came back, my squirrel was 
gone ! He had feigned death to deceive me. I have 
seen a striped squirrel play the same trick on a cat, 
and get away from her.” 


44 A Jolly Good Summer. 

^^Some birds do the same thing,” said Professor 
Strong. 

Yes,” said the Doctor. Some thrushes and 
sparrows are particularly artful. I well remember 
my disgust when I was a boy, the first time a thrush 
no bigger than my thumb outwitted me. In the 
woods I came upon a thrush that seemed to be hurt. 
She trailed her wing as if it were broken, and hopped 
feebly along, with a peculiar cry. I was overjoyed at 
this fine chance to capture a live thrush, and slipped 
cautiously towards her. But as I slipped along, so 
did she, managing to keep just far enough ahead of 
me to raise my hopes, and lure me on, but careful not 
to let me lay hands on her. When she had tolled 
me along a safe distance from her nest, whisk ! up 
and away she flew, leaving me standing, open 
mouthed, staring after her.” 

Amy laughed at this picture of the Doctor’s discom- 
fiture by the small bird, and hoped for more stories. 
But here her mother called her into the dining-room 
to bring out some iced raspberry shrub to pass to 
their friends. The night was warm, and the bits of 
ice tinkled invitingly against the thin glasses, as Amy 
passed the tray around. The company sipped the 
shrub comfortably, inhaled the odor of the honey- 
suckles, and fell into a general chat not especially, 
entertaining to Amy, so she slipped out on the lawn 
and amused herself by catching the fireflies that 
danced all over it, high and low, like little stars,” 
Amy thought. She played she was their queen, and 
that they were her rebellious subjects. As fast as 
caught they were thrown into the crystal dungeon,” 
as Amy called an inverted tumbler on the porch. 


45 


Amy'^s New Plan, 

‘‘ I graciously pardon you this time. You are free. 
But never do it again,’’ said Amy, raising the tumbler 
and letting her prisoners go when she was tired of 
watching them. “ I believe I will go in and write a 
poem about fireflies. They seem very poetical, flash- 
ing about in the dark.” 


46 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


CHAPTER IV. 


PREPARING FOR THE LAWN FETE. 

HE meeting of the four girls at Amy’s to appoint 



committees was entirely successful. First they 
appointed themselves to the positions they preferred, 
and then the other children to fill the remaining 
posts. So all was smooth sailing in the committee 
meeting. Amy and Kitty were to have the fancy 
table because they always had it, Irene the flower 
and fruit table, Dorothy Paxton the candy table, 
Laura the cake table. 

But when they called the Brightside Club together, 
and announced their appointments, all was not so 
harmonious, and they experienced some of the trials 
familiar to the managers of grown-up fetes. 

“ I don’t want to bother with the ice-cream this 
year,” said Ben Bruce. I ’ve had it every year. Max 
and Paul and I meant to get up a first-class lemonade 
and peanut stand.” 

The great point in having Ben in charge of the ice- 
cream table was that, as his father kept a cow, and 
his mother was notoriously generous, she was certain 
to donate a large quantity of ice-cream, which Ben 
would freeze himself, with a corresponding saving to 
the fate’s fund. 

Oh, now, Ben, do please have the ice-cream,” said 


Preparing for the Lawn Fete. 47 

Irene. “ You can put up your tent to sell it in, you 
know, and that will be so nice.” 

You always do it so well,” said Amy. 

‘^No one can do it so well as you, Ben,” said Kitty. 

Oh, do take it, Ben,” pleaded Laura. 

Thus flatteringly beset, good-natured Ben could but 
yield, and so that important point was settled. 

But hardly was this off the committee’s minds, 
when it developed that Dorothy was not sure she 
could take the candy table, her mother not being well, 
and dreading the work. 

Dear me ! ” said Amy. What shall we do ? 
Mrs. Paxton makes such delightful candy, and so 
much, too.” 

Maud will help us, I know,” said Kitty, if we can 
only get some one to take the table. She makes 
splendid candy, and so does Josie Bruce.” 

Frida wants to be on the fancy table,” said Irene. 
‘^She says she doesn’t want to take the lemonade 
table this year.” 

Bob is determined to have the lemonade table,” 
said Kitty. He says the boys ought to have some- 
thing.” 

“And little Claribel, and Lulu Boyd, and all the 
little girls want to have tables,” said Amy. 

“ Why, they ’re not old enough. They don’t know 
how to make change,” said Kitty. 

“ If every one has a table, there will be no one left 
to buy our things,” said Laura. 

All these difficulties, and many more that developed 
from time to time, were happily smoothed over at 
last. Amy had not only considerable diplomacy, but 
also a kind heart and wanted every one to be happy, 


48 A Jolly Good Summer. 

and as she was the leader in the affiair, the others 
were usually willing to follow her suggestions. But 
even Amy’s composure was somewhat rufhed when 
she heard that Mrs. Herndon was going to get up a 
fancy table for Claribel and the other little girls. 
She felt her own peculiar domain poached upon, and 
poured out her sorrows to her mother at bedtime, the 
usual hour for special confidences. 

“ They are so little they will not know how to sell 
things , or make change, or anything. Dixon says he is 
going to help about it. Imagine Dixon tending a fancy 
table ! We don’t want everybody to have tables. 
Kitty and I have always had the fancy table, and we 
don’t want to have another. It will spoil ours.” 

‘‘I presume Mrs. Herndon will help the children 
sell their articles,” said Mrs. Strong, so there will 
be no trouble about that. And you know what you 
chiefly want, Amy, is to make all the money possible 
for the Fresh Air Fund. The more workers, the 
more you will make. You do not wish to be selfish 
in your charities, I am sure.” 

^‘Ko — o,” said Amy, rather doubtfully. ^^Well, 
anyway, Kitty and I are going to get up perfectly 
lovely things this year. Irene is going to help us. 
She paints so well. And cousin Elizabeth will paint 
us some things, I know. And we are going to ask 
some of the other ladies to make things for us.” 

I will make some pretty marble bags for you and 
fill them, besides donating a few articles I have 
bought at fairs and never used,” said her mother. 

Oh, will you ? How nice ! I must go in town 
shopping this week, mamma.” 

‘‘You have an engagement at the dentist’s Satur- 


Prefaring for the Lawn Fete. 49 

day/’ said her mother. “ You can do your shopping 
then.” 

Oh, dear ! ” groaned Amy, at the mere word 

dentist.” 

Kitty and Amy had a sort of dentist partnership. 
When either had to visit the dentist, it was found the 
greatest possible comfort and help to have the com- 
pany of the sympathetic little friend, wonderfully 
shortening the hour in the detested chair. So the 
next Saturday, the devoted Kitty cheerfully spent an 
hour and a half shut up in Dr. Henry’s little north 
office with her friend. 

Amy, being delicate and nervous, suffered keenly 
when her over-sensitive teeth had to be filled. But 
she was learning self-control, and no longer groaned 
and twisted about, but sat so still, even when the 
sharp shooting pain sometimes brought tears to her 
eyes, that when Doctor Henry released her he said, 
Well, Miss Amy, you are improving wonderfully. 
That was rather a bad filling. You endured it as 
well as I could myself,” which pleased Amy greatly. 

She contrived to get all the pleasure possible out of 
the dreary business. When Dr. Henry raised her 
aloft in the huge chair by turning some mysterious 
machinery below, she said to Kitty, 

am a princess, and this is my magic throne, 
that rises or falls as I will it.” 

When Dr. Henry strapped a piece of black rubber 
across her mouth she added to the effect by closing 
one eye and looking at Kitty so comically that Kitty 
laughed until Dr. Henry wondered what it could all 
be about. When he was called out of the room, she 
and Kitty entertained themselves by looking into all 
4 


50 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

his funny little mirrors that magnified their faces so 
that they hardly knew themselves. So they con- 
trived to have some fun even at the dentist’s. 

Everything comes to an end at last, if we are only 
patient. So it was with Dr. Henry’s labors. The 
happy moment came finally when he lowered the 
magic throne, saying, 

“ That is all for to-day.” 

Cheerfully did the little girls bid him adieu, and 
hasten away for the all-important shopping. 

First we must get our soda-water,” said Amy, for 
her mother had strengthened her firmness in the den- 
tist’s chair by this prospective reward of soda-water 
for herself and Kitty, also by a liberal addition to 
her shopping fund. 

As Amy and Kitty knew exactly what they wanted, 
— a great saving of time to shoppers, — their pur- 
chases were soon made. A bolt of baby ribbon at 
Shillito’s, owls, mice, tiny jugs, pitchers, dolls, and 
mats at the Japanese store; and, above all, many 
articles at the five-cent store, for experience had 
taught the girls the wisdom of having some cheap 
articles to catch the pennies of their small patrons. 
At the five-cent store they bought several little bar- 
rels of pretty yellow clothes-pins at five cents apiece. 
They would tie the clothes-pins in two bunches with 
blue baby ribbon, and sell each for five cents, and fill 
the barrel with three cents’ worth of marbles and sell 
that for five cents too, so this really was a great 
investment. 

“ We must be sure to have plenty of things for boys,” 
said Amy, there are so many boys on our street.” 

Here are some little iron hatchets, just as cunning 


Preparing for the Lawn Fete. 51 

as they can be/’ said Kitty. I know Eob will buy 
one of these hatchets.” 

A supply of hatchets was bought, also whips, 
whistles, little stoves, and sets of dolls’ tea dishes. 

All these things we pay five cents for, we ought 
to sell for six or seven cents,” said Amy, so we can 
make a profit.” 

I know it,” said Kitty. I think we might sell 
these hatchets for eight.” 

We might ask eight to begin with, and then mark 
them down to seven if they don’t sell,” said the wise 
Amy. That ’s the way they often do with the 
fancy articles at our church fairs.” 

The girls worked not only enthusiastically, but 
really laboriously, preparing for the fair. Irene and 
Amy spent the mornings together, pasting and paint- 
ing. Amy took a pair of the Japenese owlets and 
fastened them on a twig side by side, a twig wound 
with bright ribbon, and on the head of the mother 
owlet, to distinguish her from the father, she put a 
jaunty cap trimmed with ribbon. This proved an 
immediate financial success, as Miss Alden, Amy’s 
music teacher, cheerfully paid fifteen cents for a twig 
of owlets the moment Amy showed it to her ; Amy 
bought another herself, and the rest were quickly 
snapped up the day of the fgte. 

After school, Kitty, Laura, and Frida joined the 
others, and they had regular sewing societies for the 
fair, dressing dolls, making marble bags, pin-cushions, 
and court-plaster cases ; also shaving-paper holders to 
catch the fathers’ quarters. 

Amy kept all the fancy articles in an unused 
bureau in grandma’s room.” Often were the treas- 


52 A Jolly Good Summer. 

ures of this bureau arranged in fascinating array on 
the bed, and her mother, Bridget, and Nora called 
upon to come and admire them. Often too, did a 
flock of little girls run gaily up the stairs, with 
much chattering and giggling by the way, escorted by 
the proud Amy, to have a confidential peep at the 
glories of the coming fancy table. 

In spite of the throes of the final examinations 
under which all the public school children were now 
groaning, Laura found time to briskly canvass the 
avenue for cake, her example being imitated by the 
children in charge of the other tables. Most of the 
ladies on the avenue promised the active little can- 
vassers cake, candy, lemons, fruit, and so on. When 
children undertake in earnest to do anything, it is 
sure to be accomplished. There is no resisting the 
young hearts, so full of life, of generous enthusiasm. 

Every night, Amy, whose whole heart was absorbed 
by the great coming event, entertained her father and 
mother at the dinner table by rapturous accounts of 
some new items of good fortune, such as, — 

Oh mamma, papa, what do you think ? Cousin 
Elizabeth has written her friends in Washington 
about our f^te, and they are actually going to send 
her a whole box of things for our fancy table ! Is n’t 
that gorgeous ? The letter came today. Cousin 
Elizabeth called me in to see it, and I really jumped 
up and down for joy. Then she showed me some of 
the loveliest dolls’ screens she has painted for us. I 
mean to buy one for my doll-house. And she is going 
to dress Ronald and J ack up like little Italian boys 
and have them sell popcorn. She is painting pretty 
boxes now for the popcorn. Is n’t that lovely ? 
Cousin Elizabeth is so kind.” 


Preparing for the Lawn Fete. 


53 


Another time the great items were, “Ben Bruce 
told me to-day such a delightful plan he has. He is 
going to be dressed like a French cook to sell his ice- 
cream. His sister Josie is making him a real cook’s 
cap and apron now. Won’t he look funny ? And I 
have a new idea.” 

“I should think your ideas would be nearly ex- 
hausted by this time, Amy,” said her mother. 

“No. I only thought of this to-day. I’m going 
to write to Aunt Leigh and Cousin Emma to-day 
about our f§te, and see if they don’t want to send some, 
thing for our table. Aunt Leigh does so much fancy 
work, and Cousin Emma paints china, you know.” 

The letter was written that very evening, and duly 
despatched to Philadelphia. Only the day before the 
f^te, when Amy eagerly ran out on the porch to meet 
the postman and secure the mail, there was the much 
expected letter from Philadelphia. Amy tore it 
open, and found to her delight not only a kind letter 
wishing her much success, but a check for two dol- 
lars, payable to “Amy Strong.” 

“ Even papa cannot draw the money on this check 
unless I endorse it,” Amy told the children, as she 
ran around to display the wonderful bit of paper. 
It was a great moment when, with much care, in her 
best hand, she inscribed “ Amy Strong ” on the check, 
and received two dollars on the spot from papa. 

The evening before the f^te, the door bell rang. 
Amy, who was all excitement now that the great day 
was so near, ran out in the . hall to find Nora bringing 
in a large paper box. 

“ It ’s for you. Miss Amy,” she said. “ Jamie 
Richardson brought it. He said it was some things 
that his sister Marie had made for the fair.” 


54 


A Jolly Crood Summer. 

Marie was one of the little friends who attended 
Sunday-school with Amy and Kitty. She had been 
ill for weeks with typhoid fever ; had had a relapse, 
and almost died, and was still confined to her bed, 
weak and emaciated, slowly struggling back again to 
life. The girls could hardly wait to take the cover 
off the box. 

“ Was n’t it sweet in Marie to do this ? ” said Amy. 

Marie had shown much taste and ingenuity in her 
fancy articles. There were many paper flowers, roses 
and snowballs, almost as natural as life ; two pretty 
lamp shades made of crepe paper, and a little doll 
made of cotton batting, her dress ingeniously con- 
trived from a gay Japanese mat, and a fine bonnet 
adorning her head, where Marie had drawn her ex- 
pressive features with ink. 

Think of Marie lying in bed, making all these 
things,” said Amy. 

‘^They are perfectly lovely,” said Irene. don’t 
see how she did it.” 

will buy the cotton batting doll,” said Mrs. 
Strong. ^^It shall go into my Christmas drawer. 
How touching it is to think of that child on her sick 
bed working so hard to help give little poor children 
an outing in the country ! ” 

^^We must send her something from our table, 
Amy,” said Kitty. 

‘^We will send her one of Cousin Elizabeth’s doll’s 
screens,” said Amy. ^‘And after the fete is over, 1 
mean to go and see her, and carry her some flowers.” 

Jamie is coming to the fete,” said Kitty. ‘‘He 
bought a ticket of Eob.” 

The Brightside girls and boys had been briskly 


55 


Preparing for the Lawn Fete, 

selling tickets, not only up and down Hillside 
Avenue, but to their schoolmates from all over 
Edgeton. There had been much discussion in the 
Club about the price of these tickets. As the price 
for adults was raised to five cents, some thought that 
three cents should be asked for children. Amy asked 
her mother’s advice, who said, — 

“ I should admit the children for one cent, as you 
have before, Amy. The fact is, they are sure to spend 
every penny they have,” — 

Yes, of course they will,” assented Amy. 

^^And they might as well have the pleasure of 
spending their money inside where they can get 
something for it.” 

While the girls were still admiring the contents of 
Marie’s box, the bell rang again loudly. Eonald and 
Jack were found on the porch, ready to jump through 
the screen door with impatience before Amy could 
open it. 

Oh, Amy ! ” they burst out together, “ the Wash- 
ington box has come ! ” 

Oh, has it ? ” cried all the girls in concert. 

Yes, and it ’s a great big wooden box, full of things, 
and mother wants you to come right down and see 
them.” 

The girls needed no urging. Seizing their hats, 
they sped down the avenue, their hair flying on the 
wind, Eonald and Jack keeping up in spite of their 
shorter legs, while some of the other children, seeing 
the excitement, joined in the race, crying, — 

What is it, Kitty ? Do tell us, Amy.” 

'‘ A big box from Washington, full of things for 
the fete ! ” cried the girls, as they sped on to Cousin 
EliTabprf-ii’s^ 


56 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

The contents of this box could not be enough 
admired by the girls. But some of the articles 
seemed so very expensive as almost to dismay them. 

Cousin Elizabeth says that embroidered table 
centre ought not to be sold for less than three dol- 
lars. And those painted fans are cheap at a dollar, 
she says. They are lovely, but I am afraid we never 
can sell them,” said Amy, after she had returned 
home. I don’t see who is going to buy all the 
things, anyway.” 

The mothers, of course,” said Kitty. 

“ The poor mothers ! ” said Mrs. Strong. First, 
they are expected to contribute most of the things, 
and then to buy them all.” 

Ah, but, mamma,” said Amy, you know it is to 
help the little poor children.” 

^‘Yes, I know. I think you will find that the 
mothers will do their part nobly to the last.” 

What if it should rain to-morrow ? ” said Irene. 

Irene ! don’t mention such a terrible idea ! ” 
said Amy. 

^^Oh, girls, I forgot to tell you. Papa brought 
home three pounds of candy last night for the f§te,” 
said Kitty.” 

‘^How nice ! ” said Amy. ‘‘We are sure to make a 
great deal of money to-morrow, I know, if it does n’t 
rain.” 

She peeped out the window the last thing before 
getting into bed that night, and announced, — 

“Every star is twinkling bright. I am sure it is 
going to be pleasant to-morrow.” 


Tlie Lawn FUe. 


67 


CHAPTER V, 


THE LAWN FETE. 



ARLY on the morning of the important Saturday, 


I V at least twenty pair of bright young eyes popped 
open with one thought, — “I wonder if it is a pleasant 
day,” — and twenty glad hearts bounded joyfully 
when these eyes beheld the most glorious of June 
mornings, the sun pouring a flood of golden radiance 
through the elm boughs, the birds singing songs of 
congratulation to the children, apparently, and the air 
sweet with summer odors. A very warm day was 
indicated, but Cincinnatians are not alarmed at a 
little hot weather, being well seasoned to it. 

Hardly was breakfast over, when Hillside Avenue 
was alive with children running to and fro from Dr. 
Trimble’s in active preparations for the fgte, which 
was to begin promptly at two o’clock. Mr. Green, 
who, of all great doings on Hillside Avenue, could 
truthfully say with ^neas, All of it I saw, — part 
of it I was,” travelled back and forth with loaded 
wheelbarrow, or carrying tables, baskets, seats, and 
screens, freely giving his labors to the good cause. 

The boys were active and really useful, for once, 
climbing trees as nimbly as monkeys to hang up 
flags and other decorations, and running errands 
hither and thither, being much ordered about by the 
girls, who were arranging and decorating their tables. 


58 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

Mrs. Trimble sent her colored man, William, and 
her colored maid, Elnora, out to help, a service will- 
ingly rendered, they and Mr. Green lightening their 
labors by plenty of chat and jokes among themselves. 
By noon. Dr. Trimble’s place was transformed into 
such a fairy-land that when he came home, he de- 
clared, I don’t know where I am.” 

Flags fluttered from the trees ; long strings of 
Japanese lanterns swung from tree to tree, quivering 
in every breeze ; white tents gleamed against the dark 
Norway spruces ; and scattered everywhere, up hill 
and down, were tables covered with snowy cloths, 
and gayly decorated with pink and blue cheese cloth, 
bright colored paper cut in fancy designs, green 
branches, and garlands of flowers. 

Isn’t it perfectly beautiful ? ” exclaimed Amy, as 
she and the others stood at the top of the hill to look 
at the results of their morning’s labors. 

It looks even prettier than I imagined it would,” 
said Laura. This is going to be our greatest fete 
yet, I am sure.” 

I wonder how much money we shall make ? ” said 
Kitty. 

“ How much did you make last year ? ” asked Irene. 

Over twenty-nine dollars,” said Amy, “ but I 
know we shall make more this year. Oh, girls, 
wouldn’t it be splendid if we could make forty 
dollars ? ” 

‘^Perhaps we can, if we sell all the Washington 
things,” said Kitty. 

Pooh ! what are you girls talking about ? ” said 
Max Goldschmidt. ^‘We boys expect to make five 
or six dollars ourselves, just off of the lemonade.” 


The Lawn Fete, 


59 


Wait till you hear me holler lemonade! ’’’ said 
Kob. guess the folks will all want lemonade 
when they hear me holler/’ 

Don’t you be too smart, Rob Clover,” said Max, 

or you ’ll spoil trade.” 

“ Wait till they see Ben dressed up like a cook,” 
said Paul Williams. They ’ll all want ice-cream 
then.” 

‘‘I guess they’re sure to want ice-cream, anyway, 
this hot day,” said Ben, fanning himself with his hat. 
He had been working hard, putting up his tent, and 
bringing little tables and chairs, which were set 
invitingly around the tent, in the cool shade of a 
Norway spruce. 

‘^We ought to hurry home now and dress,” said 
Laura. We might be late.” 

The mere idea of such a thing hurried the children 
home, where luncheons were quickly swallowed, that 
they might hasten back. 

If Dr. Trimble’s lawn suggested fairy-land in the 
morning, still more did it in the afternoon, when to 
all its other bright decorations was added a swarm of 
little girls in white dresses and gay sashes, fluttering 
all over it. The boys were not so ornamental, 
perhaps, but they certainly added a great deal of 
life to the scene and some noise, as they dashed 
about, up hill and down, to the injury of Dr. 
Trimble’s hillside. They were so numerous that 
their pennies and nickels swelled the receipts 
greatly, especially at the ice-cream, lemonade, and 
candy tables. 

The boys, by joining together all their own pieces 
of rope, and borrowing the Bruce and Clover clothes- 


60 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

lines, had enclosed the two sides of the grounds on 
Grand and Hillside Avenues. The entrance was left 
at the drive- way, where sat Paul Williams and Tom 
Barr taking admission fees and tickets. 

Near the entrance stood the fancy table of Claribel 
and the other little girls. It was delightful to see their 
importance over our table.’^ Mrs. Herndon sat 
with them, and aided them in the emergencies of 
making change. The little girls felt that they could 
have dispensed with the help of Dixon, who hovered 
around, making philosophical explanations, and point- 
ing out the defects of certain articles to customers in 
a way that the girls felt was calculated to injure trade. 
They had many nice and pretty things, their choicest 
treasures being two small oil sketches painted for 
them by Mrs. Prazier. 

Amy, who had become quite reconciled to the rival 
table, admired all their things, and bought an irre- 
sistible doll made of cotton yarn by Mrs. Herndon. 
She told Kitty, — 

“ There ’s one good thing. Their table will keep 
Dixon from bothering us. He always asks so many 
questions.’’ 

The glory of Dr. Trimble’s place was two grand 
old beeches. Their mottled bark, wide-spreading 
branches, hollow trunks, and gnarled “ antique roots ” 
made one think of the Forest of Arden. Under the 
picturesque beech that clung to the brow of the hill 
was the candy table, in the charge of Dorothy and 
Frida, who, like all the girls, wore jaunty white caps 
trimmed with knots of ribbon to match their sashes. 
Their white dresses stood out with crisp freshness, 
and their eyes shone with happiness and excitement. 


The Lawn Fete. 


61 


The home-made candy, made by the deft hands of 
Mrs. Paxton, Maude Clover, Josie Bruce, and others 
who “had the knack,” was delicious, and the little 
girls, doing as they would be done by, served their 
patrons generously, as the patrons were not long in 
finding out. 

“That candy is twice as good as store candy,” Van 
Gooding confided to Pred Woodard, “and they give 
you twice as much for your money, too.” 

Liberal patronage followed, not only from Pred, 
but all the other girls and boys, and the candy table 
was swept bare long before night, Dorothy and Prida 
saying, mournfully, — 

“Isn’t it too bad? We could have sold twice as 
much if we had only had it.” 

On the brow of the hill stood Ben’s ice-cream tent. 
Ben’s cook’s costume made him greatly admired by 
the children, and, indeed, the white cap and apron 
were really becoming to his fresh , boyish face, as he 
stood in his tent serving the ice-cream which Janet 
Prazier and May Morgan, two deft and dainty little 
waitresses, passed to the customers. Behind the 
tent Elnora washed the dishes. 

Ben was a large-hearted, generous boy, and he 
gauged everybody’s capacity for ice-cream by his 
own. He charged ten cents a saucer for grown 
people, and five for children; but this difference was 
only in price, not at all in the portions which Ben 
served with lavish hand. Mrs. Strong and Mrs. 
Clover, calling for ice-cream, were dismayed at the 
pyramids heaping their saucers. 

“Ben, your ice-cream will not last until evening if 
you give so much,” said Mrs. Clover. 


62 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

“You know you want some left for tlie fathers 
when they come home,” said Mrs. Strong. 

The ladies showed Ben the quantity usually given 
by ice-cream dealers, but Ben found it difficult to 
keep himself down to that. 

“It looks so mean and little,” he said to May and 
Janet, who fully agreed with him. 

Near the ice-cream tent stood the cake table, be- 
cause, as Laura sagely remarked, — 

“ When the people order ice-cream, if they see my 
nice cake close by, it will make them want some to 
eat with their cream.” 

On each delicious loaf of frosted cake gracing 
Laura’s inviting table, lay a beautiful tea rosebud, 
the happy thought of Mrs. Dawson, and roses and 
ferns also decorated the table. Laura sold her cake 
at the same considerately low rates that marked the 
price of the candy and ice-cream, and happy boys 
were running all about with thick wedges of cake in 
their hands. It certainly was a great day for the 
boys. 

From the upper beech-tree there was a steep, grassy 
slope down into a green hollow, where stood another 
grand old beech, whose long branches drooped over 
Amy and Kitty as they stood behind their wonderful 
fancy -table. Japanese screens made a little room 
behind the table , where a rug was spread, and chairs 
placed. But the chairs were quite useless, except 
for some of the mothers to rest on now and then, for 
sitting down was the last thing Amy and Kitty 
thought of. Trade was far too brisk, and the little 
girls much too excited. It made a pretty picture, — 
the old beech-tree, the bright table with its many 


63 


The Lawn Fete, 

colors, the two little girls, one so dark and one so 
fair, their eyes shining and cheeks glowing with 
happy excitement. 

A crowd of children gathered around as soon as 
the fancy table was ready for business, and there 
was such a rush of customers that thip girls were 
quite distracted trying to answer twenty questions 
and wait on twenty small customers at one and the 
same time. 

“How much are these hatchets, Amy?” “Please 
give me a bundle of those clothes-pins, Kitty.” “Do 
see those cunning owls ! How much are they, Amy? ” 
“Please wait on me next, Kitty.” “How much are 
your dolls?” “Here, give me one of those whistles, 
quick, will you?” “Have you got anything to sell 
for a cent?” “Dick Woodard, please put that fan 
right down. You’ll break it, using it that way.” 
“Dixon, you mustn’t meddle.” “Oh, Kitty, can 
you change a quarter?” “Oh, Van, you must pay 
for that whip.” “Wait a minute. May. I’ll wait 
on you as soon as I can.” So on, and so on, waged 
the flood of commerce around the fancy-table. 

In solitary grandeur in the middle of the table 
reposed the embroidered centre-piece from Washing- 
ton, surrounded by fans. The fans were going off 
slowly; the centre-piece was much admired, but no 
one bought it. 

“I knew we never could sell that centre-piece,” 
said Kitty, when a temporary lull in trade gave her 
and Amy a moment’s breathing spell. 

“It’s so costly,” said Amy. “Perhaps we shall 
have to mark it down. But only look at the money 
in this box! I believe there is five dollars! Isn’t 
it splendid?” 


64 


A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

so glad/^ said Kitty, “But, oh, Amy, do 
see Mr. Klaus ! He is pacing up and down in front 
of our fSte as if it were a fashionable reception.” 

Mr. Klaus was the private watchman who was 
supposed to walk Hillside Avenue during the watches 
of the night, and guard its houses and sleeping in- 
mates, although there were well-founded suspicions 
that he indulged in more naps in porch chairs than 
his position warranted. However, here he was to- 
day in full policeman’s uniform, armed with his 
club, pacing up and down the pavement in front of 
Dr. Trimble’s grounds, imparting grandeur to the 
occasion, and a terror to evil-doers in the shape of 
a few rough boys, who hung about the rope, on the 
chance of slipping under without paying. Near the 
fancy table stood the fruit and flower table, where 
Irene, looking in her white cap like a fair flower 
herself, presided over heaps of roses, lilies, etc., 
and fruit of various sorts. She drove an immense 
trade in bananas with the boys, and many older 
people bought flowers of the little girl, so ladylike, 
so pleased to be patronized. Captain Brownell hon- 
ored the f§te with his presence a short time, from 
love of his little daughter, and was, of course, a 
liberal patron of the flower table. 

Not far from the flower table was the lemonade 
well. Max, Bob, and Dick Woodard had shown real 
ingenuity in its construction. At the foot of the 
hill, under an overhanging clump of bushes, they had 
built a well of stones, leaving a cavity in the middle, 
where stood, deep down, a large tin pail full of 
lemonade. The heap of stones was so skilfully 
covered with ivy vines that the effect was rural and 
pretty, like a natural spring. 


The Lawn FUe, 


65 


The boys sold their lemonade at three cents a 
glass; big glassfuls, too, more than any one but a 
boy could drink. They had a large patronage; but 
unsleeping vigilance was necessary, as Van and some 
of the other boys thought it a good joke to make raids 
down the hill upon the well in unguarded moments, 
trying to steal drinks, not so much for the lemonade 
as for the fun of trying to outwit Max and Dick. 

If trade slackened, Kob stimulated it by shouting, — 

“Lemonade! Here ’s your ice-cold lemonade, fresh 
from the spring! Only three cents a glass! ” 

People half a mile away must have been aware that 
lemonade was for sale on Dr. Trimble’s premises that 
day, unless they were deaf. 

The popcorn boys, Konald and Jack, added to the 
life and picturesqueness of the occasion, in their 
black velvet suits, with red silk sashes tied at the 
side, knots of red ribbon at their throats, and dashing 
black beaver hats, whose broad brims were fastened 
back in front with nodding plumes. They ran up 
and down the hill, and through the thickest of the 
crowd, crying, — 

“Pop-corn! Pop-corn! Five cents a paper ! Here’s 
your fine pop-corn ! ” and Cousin Elizabeth’s daintily 
painted boxes were fast disappearing. 

Two ornaments to the f§te were little Phyllis and 
her great friend, Viola Dawson, who rambled about 
together with their dolls in their arms, looking in 
their sweet innocence like two woodland fairies who 
had wandered in among mortals by mistake. 

On the lawn, on benches and chairs that had been 
grouped here and there in the grassy hollow under 
the shade of the trees, sat the mothers, chatting with 
5 


66 A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

each other, and happy in the happiness of their chil- 
dren. Said Mrs. Bruce to Mrs. Neale, — 

“If this fete is the cause of as much happiness at 
the other end of the line as here, it will certainly be 
an unqualified success.” 

“Yes,” said Cousin Elizabeth, “I was just think- 
ing that I hoped the poor children would have as 
much pleasure from the proceeds as our children 
have had in earning them.” 

The children’s lawn fete made a pleasant social 
reunion for the whole avenue, bringing together 
neighbors who, in this busy era of a busy world, 
might not have met for weeks. But its patrons were 
by no means confined to the avenue. Many of the 
schoolmates from upper Edgeton, who intended giv- 
ing a lawn fete themselves for the Fresh Air Society 
On a large scale, later in the summer, came down to 
enjoy the festivity on Hillside Avenue, and freely 
lavished their nickels in the good cause. Marguerite 
and Theodore came over from Oak Grove, and had a 
happy time, but were obliged to leave early, because 
Nurse Winnie, who chaperoned them, became alarmed 
at some dark clouds rolling up the south-eastern sky, 
and hurried them away. 

Dr. Taylor, who was president of the Fresh Air 
Society, dropped in during the afternoon, which the 
children felt a great honor. With him came Mrs. 
Taylor, Bryant, and Stanley. Mrs. Taylor chatted 
with every one in her pleasant, cordial way, inter- 
rupted now and then by the dashing up of her eager 
boys for more money. Bryant cheerfully helped 
Bob call “lemonade,” and took a lively part in the 
activities going on around the well. 


The Lawn Fete. 


67 


Elliot had been one of the fete^s best patrons, 
appearing early in the day, with his purse well filled 
by his mother and Grandma Gaylord, in aid of so 
good a cause. Late in the afternoon he came and sat 
down behind the fancy table, looking so pale and 
sober that Amy and Kitty both asked, — 

“What is the matter, Elliot?” 

don^t feel very well,” said Elliot. “Here’s 
some candy you can have; I don’t want any more,” 
and he passed over a sticky bag of caramels. 

“You haven’t bought a thing at our table yet,” 
said Kitty. “I think you might.” 

“ I ’m going to now. I want one of those hatchets, 
and a pair of those owls.” 

“Don’t you want this trumpet, Elliot?” asked 
Amy. “It’s only ten cents.” 

“And a whip?” added Kitty. “See, it has a 
whistle in the handle. And one of these penwipers 
for eight cents?” 

“Yes, I ’ll take them all,” said Elliot, drawing out 
his purse. 

“Oh, Elliot,” said Amy, encouraged by these suc- 
cesses, “don’t you want to buy this lovely table 
centre? It would make such a beautiful Christmas 
present for your mother.” 

“Oh, yes, Elliot,” said Kitty, “do buy the table 
centre ! ” 

“I don’t see the use of such things as that,” said 
Elliot, flatly refusing to relieve the girls of the table 
centre. But he bought a fan for a birthday gift to 
his sister Kose, and then went away, saying, — 

“ I feel better. I guess I can eat another banana 
now.” 


68 A Jolly Grood Summer. 

“If he only would have bought that table centre/’ 
said Kitty, anxiously re-arranging it, to give it the 
most attractive look possible. 

“What a shame it will be if we have to send it 
back to Washington! ” said Amy. 

The children were pleased at the attention their 
fete attracted from passers-by on Grand Avenue. 
People driving stopped their carriages and sat look- 
ing at the bright, animated picture, and the people 
in the electric cars dashing by, stretched their necks 
to look back as long as the cars were in sight. It 
was funny to see the horses shying at the unexpected 
sight of white tents and fluttering pennons in Dr. 
Trimble’s hollow, where usually there was only a 
lawn-tennis net. By and by, a pretty young lady, in 
a carriage with her baby and nurse, stopped to look 
smilingly on the lively f8te. Then she left the car- 
riage and entered the grounds. Amy and Kitty 
admired her. 

“Isn’t she sweet?” said Amy. “And isn’t it 
kind of her, a stranger, to come to our fete?” 

“She has bought some ice-cream and sent out to 
her nurse,” said Kitty. “And, oh, Amy, she ^s 
coming this way now ! ” 

The stock of five cent articles on their table had 
run very low. But this noble lady did not seem to 
mind price; she bought a fan, and an embroidered 
scarf, and, oh, moment of mingled joy and anxiety, 
she asked, — 

“How much is this pretty table centre?” 

“Three dollars. It came from Washington.” 

“I will take it,” said the lady, quietly, as if it 
were a matter of course. 


TJie iaivn Fete. 


69 


Amy and Kitty managed to suppress their rapture 
until the lady had departed. Then they seized each 
other by the waist, and danced around and around, 
never minding if they did knock over the screen. 
Then they ran over to Irene, crying, — 

“ We ’ve sold it! We Ve sold it! Three dollars! 
Think of that! ” 

“It was like fairy stories,” said Amy, afterwards, 
“where the lovely princess comes in disguise, and 
relieves the sufferers. Kitty and I were really 
suffering because we couldn’t sell that embroidery 
to any one.” 

The sun sinking towards the west gilded the 
beech-trees with its yellow rays, and some of the 
fathers and big brothers began to drop in on their 
way home from business, much beset as soon as they 
showed themselves on the grounds to buy every- 
thing, as well as to refill sundry little purses that 
were drained of every penny. The intention had 
been to continue the f§te into the evening, lighting 
the Japanese lanterns as soon as the falling dusk 
gave a reasonable excuse. But the ominous clouds 
which had alarmed Kurse Winnie had slowly mounted 
higher and higher as the afternoon waned, little 
noticed in the general absorption. Now the sky sud- 
denly darkened, a strong wind blew a great cloud of 
dust up Grand Avenue, there was a threatening growl 
of thunder, and even some scattering raindrops. 

“There’s going to be a hard thunder shower,” 
cried every one, in dismay. 

Then began a dashing and scrambling about, and 
hurrying to and fro. Boys swarmed up trees, tak- 
ing down lanterns and decorations; anxious parents 


70 A Jolly Good Summer, 

gathered their offspring together and scuttled off 
home with them, and the children were huddling the 
wares left into baskets, dress skirts, anything handy, 
and scudding for home like ships before the gale. 
Mr. Green and William tore about, carrying loads of 
screens, draperies, and articles that rain would 
damage into Dr. Trimble’s stable. 

Van Gooding and the Barr boys did not lose their 
presence of mind, but took advantage of the con- 
fusion to drag the lemonade pail out of the well, and 
were hastily passing it from mouth to mouth, when 
Max, Dick, and Bob spied them, and fell upon them 
like an army with banners. When this little diffi- 
culty was settled, the lemonade pail was empty, and 
it did not matter much if the boys were caught in 
the shower. 

Amy had been around late in the day, and collected 
all the money at the different tables into the tin 
wafer-box which represented the treasury. Nora 
came running down the hill with umbrellas and 
waterproofs. Mrs. Strong said, — 

“I T1 carry your basket for you. Hurry, girls!” 
and departed hurriedly, none too soon. 

Just as the first gust of the shower broke in a 
tempest, Amy and Kitty raced up the Strong’s drive- 
way under one waterproof, Amy tightly clasping to 
her breast the tin money-box, wherein the nickels 
and pennies jingled merrily as she ran. 

Apparently a malignant fairy, who had not been 
invited to the f§te, had waved her wand over Dr. 
Trimble’s lawn, only half an hour ago so thronged, 
so gay with decorations, such a bright, animated 
scene. Now all was dreariness and desolation. Only 


The Lawn Fete. 


71 


a few bare tables and wooden chairs were scattered 
about on the grass littered with papers, dripping in 
the rain that drove in white gusts and torrents across 
the hillside, tossing the great beech branches wildly, 
and threatening to wholly blow away Ben’s tent, as 
it flapped in the gale. Not a human being was to be 
seen when, through the darkness, brilliant flashes of 
lightning gleamed whitely along the avenue. 


72 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


CHAPTER VI. 


HEN-OLOGY. 


HEN the severity of the storm had somewhat 



abated, and Amy and Kitty had recovered 


breath, the great work of counting the money was 
eagerly begun. 

“Papa, you will have to help us,” said Amy; 
“there is so much, we never can count it ourselves.” 

Professor Strong willingly came to the little girls’ 
aid. When the bills, the silver dollars, the quarters, 
tens, nickels and pennies, had all been piled up 
separately, and counted twice, the amount of each 
was set down , and Professor Strong proceeded to add 
the column, the girls anxiously awaiting the result. 

“Sixty-five dollars and forty cents! ” said the Pro- 
fessor. “ Well done, children ! ” 

Amy and Kitty could hardly believe at first that 
they had really made such an immense sum. They 
rushed out on the porch, and called across in the rain 
to Rob and Ben, who were on the Clover’s porch. 

“What do you think? We’ve made sixty-five 
dollars and forty cents I Is n’t that perfectly 
splendid? ” 

Mr. Green happened to be passing, and heard the 
great news. Telling Mr. Green anything was the 


1 ) 

Hen-ology, 73 

same as announcing it in the paper, as he circulated 
up and down among all the families on the avenue, 
and was always willing to impart any items of gen- 
eral interest. Before the avenue composed itself to 
rest that night, every child on it knew of the great 
financial success of the fgte. 

“If that storm hadn’t come,” said Kitty, “we 
should have made ever so much more.” 

“I don’t know,” said Amy; “almost all the things 
were sold. The only large thing left was one of 
Mrs. Frazier’s oil paintings.” 

Good fortune still attended the children, for the 
day after the f§te, Grandma Gaylord heard about the 
oil painting, and bought it, thus swelling the receipts 
to sixty -eight dollars and forty cents. After receiv- 
ing this unexpected addition, Amy skipped joyfully 
down the avenue to Cousin Elizabeth’s, to tell her of 
this last stroke of good luck. Cousin George hap- 
pened to be at home. Looking at Amy’s radiant 
face, he pulled out his pocket-book — that long- 
suffering pocket-book, which was always bleeding 
for some good cause — and handed her a two dollar 
bill, saying,— 

“We may as well make it seventy dollars, Amy, 
seeing it is so near that sum.” 

“ Oh , Cousin George ! ” exclaimed Amy. “ I never 
knew any one so kind ! Thank you so much. Seventy 
dollars seems so much more than sixty-eight. What 
a magnificent success our fgte is! I can hardly 
believe we have really made seventy dollars.” 

She went home, feeling as if anything might 
happen now. Any one she met might thrust a bill 
into her hand, money might drop down out of the 


74 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

sky. But the age of wonders had now passed; no 
more windfalls came in. 

The next Sunday the members of the Brightside 
Club went up early to Sunday-school, and presented 
Dr. Taylor a box containing the literally weighty 
sum of seventy dollars and forty cents, it being 
largely in nickels and pennies. A few days later, 
there came a long letter, addressed on the outside to 
Amy, but within to the members of the Brightside 
Club. It was from Mrs. English, secretary of the 
Fresh Air Society, and read as follows: — 

Dear Little Friends, — The Fresh Air and Conva- 
lescent Aid Society is in receipt of your kind favor ; the 
money is safely stowed away with the treasurer and I am 
instructed, as the society’s scribe, to return warm and hearty 
thanks for your labors in its behalf. 

But it occurs to me that there is so much more to tell and say 
that I am tempted to wish you were all here with me, and 
sitting down in such a cheery little group, I might tell you, 
oh, so very much of what good is done, and how it is all 
brought about ; how we hunt up the poor little sick babies, 
and thin delicate mothers, and the little fretted, half-starved 
children of two or three years, who live in the horrible tene- 
ment houses, sometimes under the roofs, where it is hot and 
stifling, or maybe down in some dark, damp, foul-smelling 
basement ; and carry them all away off into the beautiful sweet 
country where all is peaceful and restful, where they can lie 
under the apple-trees, have plenty to eat and delicious milk to 
drink, where fresh breezes blow, and where strength and 
health comes to them. 

Imagine poor little Magdalena who lives with her good 
grandmother in a half cellar, or lame Johnnie, or dropsical 
Maggie who always sit still while other children run about 
and play, — how lovely it is for them, and how happy they 


75 


Hen-ology. 

are. All this, and much more that I might tell you, would glad- 
den your hearts and make you never regret that you had 
worked so hard for this good cause, and made sacrifices to 
secure so much money. 

You will not only have the reward of a good conscience 
here, but the good angel will record a bright mark against 
your names in the Book of Life. He who marks the sparrow’s 
fall is surely mindful of golden deeds. What would the Fresh 
Air Society do without the blessed children and their lawn 
fetes? We take particular notice of the Hillside Avenue 
children’s efforts each consecutive year, and that they never 
forget their less fortunate little sisters and brothers. 

I think some day we must gather all the little misses and 
masters who have worked for the F. A. S. together and have 
a talk. Some of you remember Hawthorne’s “ Tanglewood 
Tales.” How I should like to be Eustace Bright, and calling 
Dandelion, Primrose, Sweet Fern, Periwinkle, Buttercup, 
Daisy, and the rest of you, have a ramble over Mt. Tusculum 
or away up on top of Mount Airy, among the poor little ones 
we are taking care of. 

Charity is one of the best traits of humanity, but when we see 
it manifested in little children it is beautiful indeed, and when 
we think of the future of lives so early impressed with “ love 
to men,” we know the world will be blessed thereby. We 
trust you will always remember the F. A. S. as the summers 
slip along, and that you will always be inspired to do good 
deeds. May God bless you always and keep you, my little 
friends. 

W armly your friend, 

Fannie S. English. 

Amy read the letter aloud to a group of children 
sitting on the Strong’s lawn under the big trees. It 
pleased them greatly. Amy said , — 

“Mamma says that a wealthy lady in the city, 
Mrs. Andrews, has given the use of a farm out in 


76 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

Tusculum to the Fresh Air Society ; it lies up high 
on the hills, with beautiful views all around, and 
they have lots of hammocks hung up under the apple- 
trees. Mr. Ireland, who owns the big dairy, gives 
them the use of three cows for the summer. It must 
seem like heaven out there to the poor little children 
that live in those dirty, bad* smelling alleys in the 
noisy city.” 

“ My mother says that a child can stay a week out 
at the Tusculum farm for only three dollars,” said 
Kitty. ‘‘Only think of it, how many poor chil- 
dren our seventy dollars will give a week in the 
country ! ” 

“ Twenty -three children and a third,” said Ben, 
who was quick at figures. 

The children all laughed at this , but Laura said, — 

“A wee, puny, sick baby might be that third, and 
it might do her more good than any one.” 

Two of Amy’s roosters were seen fighting in the 
distance. 

“ If Queen Anne and Lady Kowena are n’t fighting 
again ! ” exclaimed Amy, running off down hill to 
separate the combatants. When she came back, 
throwing herself down on the grass, panting, she 
said, — 

“I have made up my mind to sell some of my 
roosters.” 

“Why, Amy,” said Kitty, “I thought you wouldn’t 
part with one of your chickens for anything.” 

“Mamma and papa want I should,” said Amy. 
“ At first, I could not bear to think of it ; but lately 
they are so disagreeable, and make me so much 
trouble, that I have decided to do it. Queen Anne 


77 


Hen-ology, 

and Lady Rowena and Victoria light every minute, 
and Rebecca picks at that dear Dorcas boy and 
Father Dorcas all the time; he even drives them 
away, and won’t let them eat when I throw out corn. 
But I open the barn door, and the bantams are so 
tame they follow me in and hop into the corn-barrel 
and feed themselves. I have to lift them out when 
they have had enough, for it is impossible to shoo 
them away. Mr. Green is going to take all the big 
roosters, except Mr. Chickabod, up to Mr. Esmond’s 
grocery to sell to-night, after I go to bed. I don’t 
want to know anything about it. Mr. Chickabod 
has to stay because he is king of the chicken king- 
dom. I think Monday will grow up to be the Prince 
of Wales.” 

“You won’t have many chickens left,” said Elliot. 

“Mamma and papa have consented, if I sell the 
roosters, to let me buy some hens to lay eggs,” said 
Amy. “ I want you and Rob and the girls to go up 
with me to-morrow to the grocery, on the corner of 
Brooks Street, to help select some hens. I saw some 
beautiful ones there yesterday, and I felt so sorry 
for them, cramped into that little coop.” 

Elliot, and indeed all the children, were only too 
pleased to aid Amy in this important transaction, 
and the next day they might have been seen coming 
down from the grocery, the boys each bringing a fat 
gray hen of the Plymouth Rock breed, which Elliot 
had recommended as sure to be great layers, while 
Amy tenderly carried a large white hen, so gentle 
and pretty as already to be the especial favorite of 
her new mistress. All the little children who hap- 
pened to be out on the avenue, joined this hen pro- 


78 A Jolly G-ood Summer, 

cession, full of interest in this addition to Amy^s 
family. 

^‘Have you decided what to call them, Amy?’’ 
asked Irene. 

“Yes; I am going to name them for distinguished 
characters. That gray hen Eob has is Adelina Patti, 
Elliot’s is Mrs. John Drew, and this beauty is Jenny 
Lind. I thought of naming one after Gladys, but 
mamma said she feared Gladys would not appreciate 
the honor.” 

Patti, Mrs Drew, and Jenny Lind, were duly 
installed on the “L’Avenue de POpera,” as Amy 
now called Palace Court, and seemed to enjoy the 
agreeable change from the crowded coop to the free- 
dom of the Strong’s acre. The v^ry next day Amy 
ran into the house in triumph, to announce, — 

“Jenny Lind has laid an egg! Didn’t I tell you, 
mamma, it was very profitable to keep hens?” 

“It’s funny Eonald and Jack haven’t been over 
to see my new hens yet,” said Amy, soon after. “I 
must go down and get them and Phyllis to come 
up.” 

Amy found Eonald and Phyllis sitting on the front 
steps looking rather sober. 

“Where’s Jack?” asked Amy. 

“Why, he’s sick,” said Eonald. “Didn’t you 
know it? He’s sick in bed.” 

Amy was very sorry to hear that merry, roguish, 
little cousin Jack was so ill, and took Eonald and 
Phyllis home with her to play, after they should 
have sufficiently admired the eminent ladies who had 
come to reside on L’Avenue de I’Opera. 

A few days before Jack’s illness, he went down 


79 


Hen-ology, 

town with his father to buy a small “Safety” for 
■Ronald’s birthday gift. After buying the bicycle, 
Mr. Neale, to compensate Jack for not having one 
also, offered to treat him to ice-cream. 

“No, papa,” said Jack, “you have just paid so 
much for that ‘Safety,’ you can’t afford to spend any 
more money now,” and he persisted in his refusal. 

When Mr. Neale told Cousin Elizabeth about Jack’s 
thoughtfulness, she said, — 

“ Dear boy! I must make it up to him somehow.” 

The next morning, when Jack was going to school, 
she said, — 

“Jack, dear, here’s five cents to get some soda- 
water at recess.” 

Jack laughed as he took the money, and ran off 
with a look of mystery that puzzled his mother, but 
was fully explained when he came home at noon, to 
joyfully present her with a red breast-pin of some 
unknown material, which he had bought for her at 
Mrs. Blau’s store. 

“Isn’t it pretty, mamma?” he said. “And it’s 
so big, too, for only five cents.” 

The red breast-pin had held a place of honor on 
Mrs. Neale’s pin-cushion ever since. But now, as 
Jack, burning with fever, tossed restlessly on the 
hot bed, thirst made him ready to repent his gener- 
osity, mocking him with all his lost opportunities. 

“Oh, dear,” he said, “I wish now I had taken that 
ice-cream papa offered me the other day! And I 
wish I had drank more lemonade at the f§te, and 
eaten more ice-cream ! And I wish I had spent my 
five cents for soda-water, too. You never wear that 
pretty pin I gave you, mamma.” 


80 


A Jolly Crood Summer. 

His mother looked at the little fellow, so small in 
the big bed, whose face was flushed, whose voice was 
weak and peevish, and said, — 

“I ’ll go and put it right on now. Jack dear.” 

Tears fllled her eyes as she put on the funny red 
pin. If Jack should die, how pathetic that pin 
would seem, what a sacreduess would at once invest 
this memento of her little boy’s generous, loving 
spirit ! 

Amy ^mused Eonald and Phyllis in various ways. 
She always had plenty of entertaining plans, and 
could easily invent new games, when they wearied of 
the old. After they had run and played until they 
were tired and warm, Amy said, — 

“Now come and sit in the hammock, and I will 
draw some picture stories for you.” 

The hammock was swung in the cool shade, from 
the catalpa, that the children climbed so much, to a 
big maple. The catalpa blossoms dropped down on 
the children’s heads like a summer snow, while a 
gentle breeze cooled their heated faces, and wafted 
sweet odors of lilies and mignonette from the flower- 
beds. Eonald sat on one side of Amy, Phyllis the 
other, all absorbed in her drawings. First she drew 
some beautiful ladies, fantastically dressed. 

“ These are some of the leading princesses in Our 
Land,” she explained. “Laura and I are well 
acquainted with them. This is Princess Leonora of 
the Beautiful Eyes; this is Princess Quabash, the 
Eccentric, — you see how wildly her hair flies about, 
and how strange her head-dress is ; this is Princess 
Eeyne, the Fair, and this is Princess Mauvette, the 
Fashion Queen.” 


81 


Hen-ology. 

Phyllis admired the charming ladies, and said, 

“Please draw some more, Amy.” 

But Eonald said, — 

“I don’t care very much for those pictures.” 

“I will draw something you will both like, I 
guess ,” said Amy. “ This will be the exciting history 
of an Apple Pie.” 

The adventures of the Apple Pie were truly thrill- 
ing, and amused the children greatly. Each scene 
was illustrated, and the story ran thus, — 

“A was an Apple Pie. B bit it, C cut it, D danced 
on it, E eyed it, F fanned it, G got it, H had it, I 
imagined it, J jumped on it, K kicked it, L licked 
it, M made it, N nailed it, 0 opened it, P pricked it, 
Q quirled it, R ran over it, S smiled on it, T tickled 
it, U t47i-tickled it, V vied for it, W whistled to it, 
X Examined it, Y yelled at it, Z zigzagged it.” 

The fun lay in the illustrations. The Apple Pie 
was always represented with an expressive face. 
His look of agony when C cut him, or N was seen 
driving a nail into his cheek, or P, a knight in full 
armor, bearing down on horseback, ran a spear 
through him, his dismay when K, a bad boy, with 
a wicked grin, gave him a flying kick, or L, a dog, 
licked his face, was only equalled by his bashful air 
when E, a haughty lady, eyed him through her eye- 
glasses, or his silly expression when F and S, two 
pretty girls, fanned and smiled upon him. I, imagin- 
ing the pie, seemed dissolved in a dream of bliss, 
whilst X, a doctor in a tall hat, examined the poor 
pie, sick in bed, and wearing a most doleful look. 

The children watched with unabated interest as 
Amy drew on, to see what was coming next, and 
6 


82 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

peals of laughter came so often from the hammock, 
that Lulu and Oscar Stevens and Claribel came run- 
ning over to see what was going on. When Z, a tiny 
baby girl, had naughtily dragged the sorrowful pie 
off, zig-zagging it as she ran, Amy said, — 

“Now I’ll write an illustrated poem,” and soon 
scratched off this, — 


“ A pig 
With a wig 

Danced a hop-over jig, 

And said, 

‘ For a prize, I would 
Wish for a fig ; 

But to dance in this 

Rig, 

A sensible pig 
Would never, would never, 

Would ne’er 

Dance a jig.’ ” 

This nonsense was illustrated by a comical pic- 
ture of a pig in a ballet-dancer’s skirts, with a much- 
curled and befrizzled wig on his head, stepping gaily 
out on his hind-legs. 

The children were delighted with the funny pig, 
and begged for more pictures. But the little audi- 
ence, which had been increasing, pressed too closely 
around the artist to be comfortable, so Amy said, — 

“No, we will make some crowns out of the catalpa 
blossoms now.” 

They sat in a circle on the grass under the trees, 
and strung the blossoms on spears of grass, tying 
them together for crowns. Phyllis ran home without 
her hat, to show her mother the pretty white wreath 
crowning her dark curls. 


Hen-ology. 83 

Elliot Carman now came along, and joined the 
circle on the grass. 

“I know two things that you don’t, Amy,” he 
said. 

Amy would not please Elliot by teasing to know 
his great secrets, but Kitty could not resist saying, — 

^‘Now, Elliot, what are they? I think you might 
tell us.” 

Our Sunday-school is going to have a picnic next 
week at the Zoo. Bryant Taylor told me.” 

“I’m glad,” said Amy. 

“So am I,” said Kitty. “I always enjoy the Zoo, 
no matter how often I go.” 

“There ’s something to do there,” said Bob. “But 
what ’s your other great piece of news, Elliot?” 

“ This is a great piece of news, and I guess you will 
think so. I ’m going to Alaska this summer.” 

“Alaska!” said Amy. “Are you, really?” 

“Yes,” said Elliot. “Mother has decided to go 
on a Kaymond excursion to California and Alaska, 
and take Rose and me with her. We start next 
week Tuesday, so I shall lose the picnic. But I 
don’t care ; maybe I shall see a real wild polar bear 
up there. And I shall catch up with your collection, 
Amy, for I shall keep my eyes open for curiosities 
all the time.” 

The children felt almost like envying Elliot; but 
they soon recovered themselves, and Amy said, — 

“I wouldn’t give up going to my island for any- 
thing, not even for Alaska. I can hardly wait for 
the time to come.” 

“Bet you we ’ll have as much fun up at my grand- 
mother’s as any one,” said Rob. 


84 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

“I hope you will get lots of curiosities, Elliot,” 
said Amy, “because I shall like to see them. You 
have n’t seen the fine brachiopod I got the other day 
over in Oak Grove, have you? It is the best one I 
ever saw.” 

“Where did you find it? ” asked Elliot, all interest 
at once. 

“ Mamma and I were coming home from the city 
in the summer cars, by way of Eden Park. You 
know where they are digging that hill away?” 

“Just below the power-house?” 

“Yes. When we came into that cut, an Irishman, 
who was digging, handed up this brachiopod, which 
had just fallen out of the hill, to our driver, saying, 
‘ I ’ll give that to you.’ We were on the seat behind 
the driver. I wanted to see it so much that mamma 
asked the driver to let us look at it. He said, ‘ You 
can keep it if you want to; I don’t want it.’ Mamma 
had bought me some caramels in town , so I slipped 
the bag over into his seat. I thought perhaps he 
might have some little girls at home. He didn’t say 
‘ thank you,’ or anything, but he looked pleased. I 
was glad enough to give up my caramels for the 
brachiopod.” 

“I should say so,” said Elliot. “I’m going over 
to that cut this afternoon,' and see if I can find any 
more.” 

“Come, Amy,” said Kitty, “let ’s go into the house 
and practise our song.” 

A song called “Comrades ” was very popular. The 
girls had altered its words, to make them apply to 
girls. “ Curling each other’s curls ” was felt by the 
authoresses to be a real stroke of genius. They had 


85 


Hen-ology. 

also managed to pick out an accompaniment for the 
song. 

Soon from the parlor’s open windows came the 
music of the piano, and two sweet childish voices, 
singing with spirit, — 

** We from childhood played together, my dear comrade, she and I; 
We would fight each other’s battles, to each other’s aid we’d fly; 
And in girlish scrapes and troubles, you would find us everywhere ; 
Where one went, the other followed, naught could part us, for we 
were 

Chorus : 

“ Comrades, comrades, ever since we were girls, 

Sharing each other’s sorrows, curling each other’s curls ; 

Comrades when girlhood was dawning, faithful whate’er might 
betide; 

When danger threatened, my darling old comrade was there by my 
side.” 


86 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL PICNIC. 

J ACK^S illness proved to be typhoid fever. Al- 
though he was apparently not very ill, his 
parents were extremely anxious lest the disease take 
an unfavorable turn, and watched him carefully. As 
Jack was fond of flowers, Amy kept his sick-room 
bright with bouquets. And one day Rob Clover, all 
of his own accord, sent in a beautiful box of flowers 
to Jack, which Mrs. Neale thought a pleasant thing, 
coming from one little boy to another. 

One day Amy gave Phyllis a lovely cream-tinted 
tea-rose bud. The time for roses being past, '’ittle 
Phyllis was delighted with the pretty bud, but Anally 
decided, after something of a mental struggle, to give 
it to her sick brother. Annette, the maid, happen- 
ing to come into the room soon after. Jack, always 
generous,' and feeling that Annette had been very 
kind to him, said, — 

“Annette, you may have this rosebud.” 

“Oh, Jack,” said Phyllis, almost ready to cry, “I 
believe I did n’t give you that bud ; I only lent it to 
you ! ” 

Here was trouble that only mamma could settle. 
The morning of the picnic, the Hillside Avenue 
delegation, each child bearing a luncheon basket, 


The Sunday-School Picnic, 87 

marched up in solid phalanx to Dr. Taylor’s, the 
appointed meeting-place for the Sunday-school. 
When the yard was overrunning with children, Dr. 
Taylor and the teachers collected them all with some 
difficulty into two cable cars. From these, they were 
transferred to a car which was propelled by a dummy 
engine the remaining distance to the Zoo. 

The car looked like a swarm of bees, covered as it 
was all over with children. The girls, in their fresh 
summer gowns, sat, quite properly, inside, but the 
boys hung on the edges, climbed around everywhere, 
and tried experiments with the brake, until the 
dummy engineer was almost desperate. 

“ If we reach the Zoo without killing two or three 
boys we shall do well,” said Mrs. Strong, anxiously 
regarding the boys’ antics. 

“I agree with you,” said Mrs. Hilton. “As fast 
as we suppress them in one spot, they break out in 
another.” 

At last they reached what Cincinnati children re- 
gard as almost a gateway to Paradise, — the entrance 
to the Zoological Garden. 

“How, remember, boys,” said Dr. Taylor, as the 
boys were passing through the turnstile, “we are 
to meet at the restaurant for dinner promptly at 
twelve.” 

“Yes, sir, we won’t forget that,” said the boys. 

Once inside, whoop and away they went up the 
hill, like a herd of colts turned into a pasture. The 
girls sauntered along more quietly, in little friendly 
groups and clusters. 

It was a bright summer day, warm, of course, but 
very pleasant at the Zoo, which lies up on high hills, 


88 A Jolly Good Summer, 

shaded by many large old trees, the surface varied 
by deep, cool ravines, where little brooks trickle 
along, spanned by rustic bridges. There is usually 
a breeze at the Zoo, and from its height on every 
side one catches glimpses of rolling hills and charm- 
ing homes. 

The girls came first to the buffalo herd, in a sloping 
side-hill yard of almost an acre. Some fine deer 
were in an equally large yard adjoining. In the 
ample space of the Zoo, the animals seem so well 
and at home, as hardly to realize that they are 
prisoners. 

“ Only see this pretty deer, how gentle she is ! ” 
said Amy, patting the brown nose which the deer 
thrust through the fence in a most friendly manner. 

“ Yes, but do hurry up and get to the monkey- 
house,” said Kitty and Frida. 

Even the charms of a little buffalo calf could not 
long detain the girls from the powerful fascinations 
of the monkey-house. Here they found most of the 
boys collected, some on the inside, but more on the 
outside, around the'iron cage where the “ blue baboon 
as the boys called him, was taking the air, and dis- 
porting himself as if appreciating the admiration of 
his large group of spectators. 

‘‘Give him something to eat, Eob,” said Tom 
Wallace, whose big sister had prudently kept the 
family luncheon basket in her own hands. 

Kob passed a bit of bread and butter through the 
wires to the big baboon, who sat winking his eyes 
and eying him wisely. He seized the bread, smelt 
it, then threw it down contemptuously, extending 
his paw for something better. 


The Sunday-School Picnic, 89 

The boys shouted with laughter, and Ben Bruce 
said, — 

“A wise old fellow. He knows what he likes.” 

“If you won’t eat bread, try cake,” said Bob. 

The baboon took the cake, swung himself deftly 
on a perch high up in the cage, and sat there eating 
it complacently, “just like a little old man,” said 
Bryant. 

Inside the house, the girls were deeply interested 
in a monkey family, — a father, mother, and tiny 
baby monkey. 

“She acts like a real mother,” said Amy, as the 
monkey mother tenderly clasped the little one in her 
arms, nursing and dandling it. 

“ How hateful that cross old father is ! ” said Kitty. 
“That poor little baby seems so afraid of him.” 

There was, indeed, a painful lack of harmony in 
this charming family. The baby seemed to feel irre- 
sistibly attracted to his stern parent; he constantly 
left his mother, who was squatted on the floor in the 
front of the cage, and looking longingly up the perch, 
where his father sat proudly aloft, began to climb 
up the pole. Then the father made a savage dive at 
him, and the baby, in terror, fled into his mother’s 
arms, clasping her tightly around the body, and 
being tenderly sheltered by her. Occasionally she 
looked over her shoulder at the old gentleman, as 
the girls supposed, in fear. They were full of sym- 
pathy and indignation. 

“The mean old thing,” they said, “to treat that 
dear little baby so! I believe he wants to kill it.” 

After this performance had been repeated several 
times, the mother monkey, with an air which seemed 


90 


A Jolly Good Sumraer, 

to say, “I Ve had enough of this,” dropped the little 
one and started up the pole. 

“Ha! now the old man is going to catch it,” said 
Rob Clover. 

He certainly did. For a little while there was 
what seemed a tempest of monkeys all over the cage, 
the father monkey squeaking and fleeing, hotly pur- 
sued by his wife, who literally “made the fur fly.” 
All the other monkeys in the room chattered wildly, 
while, in the midst of the whirlwind, the baby clung 
piteously to the bottom of the pole in the middle of 
the cage. Finally, when justice had been done, the 
mother came back, and clasping her child in her 
arms, sat calmly down in the front of the cage again, 
now and then glancing significantly over her shoulder 
at the father, who prudently kept himself very closely 
in the topmost corner of the cage. 

“Now they’ve settled their affairs,” said Amy, 
“we may as well go on, though we might stay here 
all day, the monkeys are so interesting.” 

The aviary next attracted them, where they stayed 
some time, admiring the pretty finches, the odd 
hornbills, the noisy green parroquets, the love birds, 
the golden pheasants, above all, the parrots, — par- 
rots of every shade and hue, and each chattering 
more noisily than the other. 

“How wise they look! ” said Kitty. 

“ They look as if they knew more than they would 
tell,” said Amy. “I wonder what they do think?” 

“Oh, girls,” said Frida, “see those pretty feathers! 
How lovely for dolls’ hats ! ” 

The girls made haste to secure the bright parrot 
feathers, which, luckily, had fallen outside the cage. 


The Sunday-School Picnic. 91 

“I am so glad to get this yellow feather,” said 
Amy; “it is exactly what Violet needs for the new 
hat Irene made her. But I would n’t wear a bird’s 
.wing or head on my hat for anything.” 

“Why not?” asked Frida. 

“ Because every one costs a dear little bird its life. 
I think it’s perfectly barbarous,” said Amy, whose 
gentle heart had been deeply impressed by William 
C. Gannett’s poem, “The Halo,” which Mrs. Hilton, 
her Sunday-school teacher, had read to her girls not 
long before. This was the poem, which was prefaced 
by this statement, taken from some paper. 

One London dealer in birds received, when the fashion was 
at its height, a single consignment of thirty-two thousand dead 
humming-birds ; and another received at one time thirty 
thousand aquatic birds, and three hundred thousand pairs of 
wings. 


This furnished the text for Mr. Gannett’s poem : 

THE HALO. 

Think what a price to pay, 

Faces so bright and gay, 

Just for a hat ! 

Flowers unvisited, mornings unsung. 

Sea ranges bare of the wings that o’er-swung, — 

Bared just for that ! 

Think of the others, too. 

Others and mothers, too. 

Bright eyes in hat ! 

Hear you no mother-groan floating in air, 

^ Hear you no little moan, — birdling’s despair, — 
Somewhere, for that % 


92 


A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

Caught ’mid some mother-work, 

Torn by a hunter Turk, 

Just for your hat ! 

Plenty of mother-heart yet in the world : 

All the more wings to tear, carefully twirled ! 

Women want that 1 

Oh, but the shame of it, 

Oh, but the blame of it, — 

Price of a hat ! 

Just for a jauntiness brightening the street ! 

This is your lialo, O faces so sweet, — 

Death : and for that ! 

“Let’s go over to the pond now,” said Amy. “I 
want to show you my favorite crane, that reasons. 
He really does. Here he comes, — that tall gray 
one.” 

The gray crane stalked awkwardly over to the 
fence, his small head wabbling at the end of his long 
neck, his round, glassy eyes not promising much 
mental power, and causing Kitty to say, — 

“He doesn’t look as if he knew anything.” 

“He does know a great deal,” said Amy. 

She threw a hard, dry chunk of bread to him. The 
crane, after picking at it in vain, took it in his bill, 
went down to the edge of the pond, and placed the 
crust in the edge of the water to soak. When suffi- 
ciently softened, he ate it easily, and then stalked 
back to the fence for more. 

“You see he thinks and reasons exactly like us,” 
said Amy. 

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” 
said Kitty. 

“ I always get Bridget to save the hard crusts for 


The Sunday-School Picnic. 93 

me when I am coming to the Zoo,” said Amy, ^Ho 
try them on him.” 

“I wonder where all the boys have gone to,” said 
Frida. 

“Oh, to the pony track, of course,” said Kitty. 
“Let’s go there next; I want to ride ever so much 
myself.” 

“So do I,” said Amy. “But let ’s stop at the Car- 
nivora house a minute as we go by.” 

Unusual peace reigned at the Carnivora house. 
The great striped tiger, one of the largest and hand- 
somest in captivity, lay stretched out in his outer 
cage, fast asleep in the sun. The ugly hyenas were 
pacing restlessly to and fro, but the leopards and 
panthers looked too lazy to stir. So did the big lion 
and lioness; but, unluckily for their repose, they 
had two small but lively cubs, who pranced all over 
their majestic parents, gnawing their ears, biting 
their paws and tails, running races and turning 
somersaults on them. 

“Do look at the big lion! ” said Amy. “He looks, 
proud of them, and so indulgent and amiable, when 
he could kill them easily with one- stroke of his great 
paw.” 

“Yes, but they bother him all the same,” said 
Kitty. “See, he is going into the inside cage to get 
his nap in peace.” 

True enough, the old lion, quite like some human 
fathers, went off by himself, leaving his wife to get 
along with the children alone as best she could. 

“I do want to go inside and just see Mr. and Mrs. 
Eooney,” said Frida. 

Mr. and Mrs. Eooney were a pair of intelligent 


94 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

chimpanzees, who, at meal-time, sat in chairs at a 
little table, Mrs. Kooney with a cap on, and ate with 
knives, forks,' and napkins, from plates and cups, to 
the admiration of the crowd sure to collect before 
their cage. Sometimes, in the midst of this elegant 
repast, Mr. Kooney so far forgot himself as to leap 
on the table, snatch Mrs. Kooney ’s cap, and make 
off with it to the top of the cage; but generally his 
manners were quite irreproachable. 

To-day, to the girls’ disappointment, the Kooney s 
shared the general languor. Mrs. Kooney sat stu- 
pidly on her perch, and Mr. Kooney lay on his 
couch in the corner, and both refused to do any- 
thing amusing. 

Two beautiful Angora cats were greatly admired 
by the girls. A sign near their cage said, — 

‘‘Angora kittens for sale. Apply at the office.” 

“Oh, girls,” said Amy, “let’s go and inquire the 
price! Prince is getting old, and I should love to 
have an Angora cat.” 

“So should I,” said Frida. “I know my papa will 
buy me one.” 

The man at the desk smiled at the eager faces of 
his would-be customers. But when he said the 
price of an Angora kitten was fifteen dollars, their 
countenances fell, and they went soberly away, Amy 
saying, — 

“I shouldn’t think any one but princesses could 
have Angora kittens.” 

Passing the boa constrictor’s cage, she cast one 
glance of horror in, then pulled Kitty’s dress, 
saying, — 

“ Come away, quick 1 ” 


The Sunday-School Picnic. 95 

When they were out doors again, she said, — 

“ Did you see that dear little white rabbit nibbling 
away in the bottom of the snake’s cage? They have 
put him there for the snake to swallow alive. Is n’t 
it terrible?” 

“I think it is awful,” said Kitty. “Ugh! I can’t 
bear to think of it. Let ’s run down to the pony 
track and forget it.” 

Nearly the whole Sunday-school was found gathered 
at the pony track, and the man in charge was having 
all he could do to provide ponies and donkeys fast 
enough. 

“Do see that disagreeable Will Bowing,” said 
Kitty; “he is nearly killing that poor pony, making 
it run so this hot day.” 

Will Bowing was, as the other boys said, “trying 
to show off.” He was riding around the track at a 
gallop, incessantly whipping his pony, and shouting, 
“Hi, get up! ” As he was in full dash, suddenly the 
pony stopped. But Will did not; he went right on, 
over the pony’s head, landing on his own head in 
the dirt. As he rose, dirty and discomfited, the 
other boys cried, — 

“Ha! a great rider you are! Here comes the 
circus rider!” and so on. 

When it was plain that his neck was not broken, 
Mrs. Strong said, — 

“ Trust the Zoo ponies to take care of themselves. 
Long experience with boys has made them wise. Do 
you want to ride, Amy?” 

“I want to, but I am almost afraid to,” said Amy, 
dismayed by Will’s disaster. 

“I’m not afraid,” said Kitty. “Come on, Amy; 


96 A Jolly Good Summer, 

let get those two cunning little ones that have just 
come in.’’ 

“Dem ponies ish all right,” said the fat, red-faced 
German pony-master. “ It ’s dem pad poys dat sthirs 
dem all up. Dey ’s tame ash kittens. Shee?” he 
said, as he put the girls in the saddle, and pulling 
the ponies along by the reins, with the aid of his 
whip in the rear, succeeded in starting them off in a 
gentle trot, which subsided into a slow walk as soon 
as the ponies were out of the range of his whip. 

The teachers sat on the raised seats under the 
canopy, commanding a pleasant view, not only of 
the track, but also a vista of gently rolling hills in 
the lovely country around the Zoo. A breeze blew 
in under the canopy’s shade, and as the teachers sat 
watching the children’s fun, and chatting with each 
other and Dr. and Mrs. Taylor, they felt that they, 
too, were having a “jolly good time,” even if not 
riding ponies. 

Mrs. Strong kept watch of the dear little figure 
with the long, rippling golden hair, on the brown 
pony, as it slowly jogged on beside Kitty, and van- 
ished at the opposite end, where the track disap- 
peared from view on lower ground for a while. She 
watched to see the little girls appear again, but, 
although ample time passed for them to come in 
sight, yet they came not. A pang of fear shot through 
her heart. What if something had happened to the 
children? That part of the track ran near the outer 
boundary of the Zoo, with woods below it. Eeason 
said “nonsense” to these fears. But Mrs. Strong 
was glad to see Kob and Bryant setting off to ride 
around. 


97 


The Sunday-School Picnic, 

“Boys,’^ she called, “do hurry, and see what has 
become of Amy and Kitty! I am afraid something 
has happened to them, they are gone so long.” 

The boys, nothing loath, whipped up their ponies 
and made good speed, disappearing behind the curve 
in their turn. Mrs. Strong watched anxiously. 

“There they come at last,” she said, her heart 
giving a bound of relief, as the little cavalcade came 
into view, girls and boys laughing hard, as at some 
good joke. 

“What was the matter?” she asked, as they rode 
up before the stand. 

“My pony would go out beside the road and eat 
grass ,” said Amy, laughing, “ and Kitty and I could n’t 
make him stir, all we could do.” 

“We both whipped him and whipped him,” said 
Kitty, “but he wouldn’t budge an inch. And then 
my pony saw the other, so he went to eating grass 
too!” 

“Pooh, your whipping wouldn’t hurt a fly!” said 
Bob, smartly. “When Bryrant and I came, they 
started fast enough ; they knew there was no use in 
fooling then.” 

Amy said she didn’t care for any more pony rides, 
but asked, — 

“May I take the donkey -cart, mamma? I want to 
give those two little Dunklee girls a ride. I don’t 
believe they have much money for rides, and they 
are two such nice little girls.” 

Soon the little Dunklees were the gayest of the 
gay, crawling around the track behind the little gray 
donkey, whom experience had taught to economize 
his steps to the utmost. 


7 


98 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

‘‘I shouldn’t suppose anything could walk as slow 
as this donkey,” said Amy. “Try whipping him a 
little, Bessie, just gently, you know, not to hurt him 
any.” 

But one might as well have whipped a leather 
trunk. 

“I can’t make him feel it, Amy,” said Bessie, 
plying the whip harder, while the donkey crawled 
on unmoved. 

“Well, never mind,” said Amy. “ See the children 
on top of Haidee! There ’s Tom and Ben and Will, 
and Frida and Claribel and Dixon. How they tip 
and roll as the elephant stalks along! I ’d rather he 
here than up on his back, wouldn’t you?” 

“Indeed, I would,” said the happy little girls, in 
chorus. 

“ Do you see that black dog following the elephant? ” 
asked Amy. “That is the elephant’s friend. He 
always stays with the elephant, day and night, and 
if any one offers to harm or insult the elephant, the 
dog is furious, and flies at him. The elephant plays 
with him, and they love each other like any other 
friends.” 

“One time when I was over here,” said Bessie, “I 
saw the elephant shut a gate. The man made him 
do it. He knows what the man says as well as any 
one.” 

“Elephants are very intelligent,” said Amy; “but 
you would n’t think so, to look at Haidee, with her 
wee little eyes, and great flapping ears.” 

Mrs. Hilton noticed that a few of the boys had not 
ridden at all. Mistrusting that lack of funds was 
the probable reason, Mrs. Hilton went over to them, 
and said, — 


The Su7iday -School Picnic. 99 

“Boys, we want to see some more riding. We 
can’t ride the ponies ourselves, so we want some one 
to ride them for us. It is almost equal to the circus 
to sit up there under the canopy, and see the children 
go around. We ’ll pay for the ponies, if you ’ll ride 
them for us. Will you?” 

“Yes’m, we will,” said the boys, with alacrity, 
thinking Mrs. Hilton the nicest lady they ever knew, 
as they trotted gaily around the track, three times 
apiece. 

But the ridiug now began to flag, for the excellent 
reason that every one’s change began to run low, 
even the mothers’ and teachers’. So, when Dr. Tay- 
lor announced, “It is time for luncheon,” every one 
was ready to accompany him to the large restaurant 
building in the centre of the grounds. A very wide 
porch ran all around this building, pleasantly shaded 
by vines and overhanging trees. A long table had 
been set for the picnic on the shady side of this porch, 
where one looked out across the flower-beds, brilliant 
with bloom, to the pond, where Amy’s crane, and many 
other aquatic birds were enjoying their little lives. 

The children had brought their own luncheon- 
baskets ; but the teachers had taken the precaution to 
bring extra supplies of cake, fruit, and sandwiches, 
lest some one run short, and these refreshments were 
passed again and again, until even the boys were 
able to gaze upon the most tempting cake unmoved. 
But every one was found able to eat ice-cream when 
it came, last of all. 

The teachers began to gather up the remnants, 
which were a despair. 

“ It really seems like the miracle of the loaves and 


100 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

fishes over again,” said Mrs. Strong; “there actually 
seems to be more than we brought. It is a shame to 
waste this nice cake.” 

“If you will pack all the half loaves and nice 
pieces in something,” said Mrs. Taylor, “I will take 
them down to the Day Nursery. The children there 
are not spoiled by too much of the good things of 
this life, and will be overjoyed with it.” 

Although their money was exhausted, the children 
still found plenty of amusement amidst the almost 
limitless resources’ of the Zoo. Some of them went 
from the restaurant down to the alligator pond. 

“I think that^s my alligator,” said Bryant, — 
“that long one sunning himself on the log. You 
know he grew so big mother made me give him to 
the Zoo. Here, sir,” said Bryant, throwing a small 
stick in to attract the attention of his old pet. But 
alligators are not warm-hearted creatures, and this 
one seemed wholly to have forgotten his former 
master, lying as motionless and indifferent as the 
log itself. 

“Come and see the prairie-dogs,” said Amy; 
“they ^re much more interesting than the alligators, 
I think.” 

The cunning little prairie-dogs, dodging into their 
holes, then bobbing up again in the most unexpected 
places, were found so pleasing, that the children hung 
over their fence until the man came to feed the sea- 
lions near by. After seeing the sea-lions swallow 
their fish whole, which they felt a striking example 
of greediness, they went down to the bear-pits. 

The bears, oppressed by the heat, were far from 
lively. The big grizzlies lay stretched out as if 


The Sunday-School Picnic. 101 

satisfied that life was not worth living, while the 
polar bears would do nothing but stay in their water- 
tanks up to their necks. The cinnamon bears, though 
not so playful as usual, did stand up comically on 
their hind-legs and beg, when they saw the children 
looking down upon them, and were rewarded by 
choice bits from a few luncheon-baskets not even yet 
exhausted. 

Then they visited the zebra, the camels, giraffes, 
and kangaroos, and the ostriches, who made the 
children laugh well by their ridiculous appearance. 
They were running, for some reason best known to 
themselves , as fast as they could up and down their 
enclosure, on an awkward trot, their small wings ex- 
panded, and great mouths wide open. As one bore 
down to the fence, with her mouth stretched from 
“ear to ear,’^ as Rob said, Kitty remarked, — 

“Did you ever see anything so ridiculous? They 
look like idiots.” 

“ But see the lovely ostrich plumes in their tails ,” 
said Frida. “I wish one would fly out over the 
fence, like the parrot’s feathers.” 

“They are like some people,” said Amy, “who 
have fine clothes, and don’t know anything.” 

The sun was low down in the west, when Mrs. 
Strong found Amy and Kitty gazing admiringly up 
into a tree at some coons, whose sly faces looked the 
picture of cunning, as they peeped knowingly down 
through the branches. 

“ Oh, girls, here you are at last ! ” said Mrs. Strong; 
“ I ’ve been looking all around for you. It ’s quite 
time we were going home. Dr. Taylor and quite a 
party have gone down to the dummy already.” 


102 A Jolly Good Summer, 

“Oh, mamma,” said Amy, “we haven’t been down 
that path at all, where all the owls and eagles, and 
wolves and foxes are. Can’t we just run down there 
a minute?” 

“Not to-night; we shall be late enough home as 
it is. We will come again when your little cousin 
Nell comes down from Troy. She is sure to enjoy 
it. Do you know where Kob is, Kitty?” 

“I think he has gone down to the dummy. I saw 
him going that way a little while ago, with Max and 
Ben.” 

But at the dummy no boys were to be found. 

“They must have gone home on the trip before 
this,” said Mrs. Strong. 

When they reached home at half-past six, Mrs. 
Clover came out to meet them. 

“Why, where’s Rob?” she asked. 

“ Has n’t he come home? ” said Mrs. Strong. “We 
expected to find him here.” 

“No, he hasn’t come yet,” said his mother. 

As Rob had gone rather under Mrs. Strong’s care, 
she felt as if she had somehow failed in duty, and 
was considerably anxious over his non-appearance. 
The delayed dinners were over, the dusk began to 
fall, and Mrs. Strong and Mrs. Clover were out on 
the lawn, holding a council of war as to what it was 
best to do, when, to their relief, the missing boy was 
seen slowly walking up the avenue. 

“Rob,” said his mother, “what is the meaning 
of this? Why didn’t you come home with the 
others? ” 

“Why, you see, mamma,” said Rob, dropping his 
basket, and sinking into the first lawn-chair, “this 


The Sunday-School Picnic, 103 

was how it happened. Ben and Max and I started 
to go down to the dummy. But we thought we would 
just stop in for one more look at the monkeys; and 
then we bought some peanuts for the monkeys and 
ourselves. That took all the money we had saved 
for car fare, so we had to walk all the way home. 
It ’s more ’n a mile from the Zoo, and after running 
around over there all day, our legs were so tired we 
couldn’t walk fast. That’s what made us so late. 
Is there any dinner left?” 


104 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


CHAPTER VIII, 


SUMMER VACATION, 


IFE on Hillside Avenue in summer was a sort 



JL. of perpetual picnic. Houses were practically 
useless, except as convenient places in which to sleep 
and eat. Every one lived out doors. The ladies sat 
on the porches, or on the lawns , in the shade of big 
trees, with books or sewing, and there was much 
friendly “ running over ” to neighboring porches and 
lawns. True, the weather was usually warm, not to 
say hot, but every one dressed thinly, and kept as 
cool as possible in mind and body. A great luxury 
was the abundance of fresh fruit. From the first 
man who made life a burden roaring “Straw-Jer- 
ries!” as he drove along the avenue in early May, 
to the last man in the fall, who rent the ear with his 
shout of “ Gur-ra-ips I ” there was always an oppor- 
tunity to buy choice fruit cheaply. 

As for the children, — the happy children, whose 
schools were all closed for at least two months, — 
they lived under the trees as naturally as the birds 
in them, and found the summer days not half long 
enough for all their important undertakings. 

One pleasant but warm morning, Irene came over 
to Amy’s. She found her on the front porch with 
her drawing-block. 


Summer Vacation, 


105 


“What queer thing are you drawing, Amy Strong?” 
exclaimed Irene, as she peeped over her friend’s 
shoulder. 

“A beauty, such as they describe in stories,” said 
Amy. “See, there are her ‘raven locks,’ her 
‘ diamond ’ eyes, her ‘ cherry ’ lips, and her ‘ swan- 
like’ neck.” 

A black raven, with low, drooping wings, was 
placed on this beauty’s head for hair; two cherries 
were drawn for her lips; long lines, darting in all 
directions from her two round eyes, indicated the 
flashing of diamonds ; and the neck was a swan’s, — 
long, thin, and arching. 

“ Amy ! How perfectly hideous ! ” was Irene’s 
tribute to this effort, at which Amy laughed as hard 
as she. 

The two sat for some time drawing, each imagin- 
ing a story, which was drawn in scenes, and then 
displayed to the other. After drawing until tired, 
Irene said, — 

“ I wish we could play dolls. But it is so fearfully 
hot up in the attic this warm weather.” 

“Oh, Irene,” said Amy, “I have thought of such 
a nice plan. We can bring those bird-houses up in 
the attic out doors, and make a summer resort for 
the dolls. They will make splendid hotels.” 

Put away in the safe harbor of the attic were two 
quite elaborate bird-houses, each of two stories, with 
a porch running under the little windows. Irene 
welcomed Amy’s new idea with enthusiasm, and 
they tugged the heavy bird-houses down from the 
attic and out doors. 

“Where shall I have my hotel?” asked Irene. 


106 A Jolly Good Summer, 

“Have yours over in the shrubbery,” said Amy, 
“and I’ll have mine here by my flower-bed, where 
the flowers will hang over it. I hn going to bring out 
a large pan of water, and sprinkle sand and pebbles 
on the bottom, and put it close by my hotel for the 
sea-shore. My hotel is at the sea -shore, you know, 
and yours might be at the White Mountains.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Irene, “I like that, because my 
uncle lives near the White Mountains, and I know 
all about it.” 

The play went merrily on. Lord and Lady Spiren- 
doff, the majestic Madame Oskavetsky, the Prince of 
Abyssinia, the peerless Countess Elnora de Goupil, 
who had long since been forgiven by her noble father. 
Sir Louis Vanderbuhl, and the rest of the nobility 
and gentry, were rattled back and forth from the 
sea-shore to the White Mountains in their little tin 
carriages, as the state of their health, always deli- 
cate, demanded. Once the carriage wheels tangled 
in the grass and tipped over. This was all the better, 
as it was a terrible accident, requiring the doctor to 
be summoned. The doctor, a small Japanese doll, 
came in such haste from his quarters at the aristo- 
cratic Hotel De Lancy, in the White Mountains, that 
he pitched out headforemost, and was run over by 
his own carriage. Before breathing his last, how- 
ever, he was able to ejaculate, — 

“Take Lady Spirendoff to the sea-shore. Sea- 
bathing is the only thing that can save her life.” 

Lady Spirendoff being a little china doll, it was 
quite safe to give her sea baths. 

“Oh, I have a beautiful idea, Irene,” said Amy. 
“You know my doll, Undine, that Cousin Elizabeth 


Summer Vacation. 


107 


gave me the summer I went to Marblehead? She 
has a wooden jointed body, and a blue flannel bath- 
ing costume, and an oil-skin cap to protect her hair, 
and I am going in to get her, and give her a bath! 

“That will be lovely,” said Irene. “Her bathing 
suit will make it seem all the more real.” 

Of course it was impossible for Amy and Irene to 
be having all this fun without the other children 
soon discovering that something interesting was going 
on among the big girls. Before long, little Claribel, 
Lity, Eda and Lena Goldschmidt, all came running 
down the driveway. 

“What are you playing, girls? Oh, do see that 
big doll in the water? What fun! May we play, 
too, Amy?” 

Amy and Irene would have much preferred plajdng 
alone. So many meddlesome little fingers picking 
up the dolls, and wanting to draw the carriages, the 
busy little tongues full of chatter, asking twenty 
questions at once, disturbed the quiet play of their 
imaginations, and broke the spell which made their 
make-believe seem almost real to them. But neither 
of them could well do anything rude or unkind, so 
they did not send the little ones away, but, as people 
often must in this world, made the best of what they 
could not help. They were not very sorry when 
Kitty came running around the corner of the house, 
all animation. 

“Oh, Amy,” she said, “Miss Sadie Humphreys 
wants to take our pictures in your grandmother^s old- 
fashioned clothes. We must hurry and get dressed, 
for she is all ready for us.” 

Once, when Amy and Kitty had been allowed the 


108 A Jolly Good Summer. 

great privilege of dressing up in some old-time dresses 
of Mrs. Strong’s mother, carefully kept by Mrs. 
Strong, they had run across the street to display 
themselves to their friend, Miss Sadie, and she had 
promised to take their pictures in costume some 
time, having a kodak, with which she took excellent 
pictures. 

It ’s too bad you have to go,’’ said Claribel. 

Is n’t it too bad ? ” said Lily, and Eda, and Lena. 

“ I will take all my dolls into the house now,” said 
Amy, ‘^except Undine. I ’ll put her on the bench in 
the sun to dry, and nobody must touch her. But I ’ll 
leave the hotels and the sea-shore here until I come 
back, and you can bring your own dolls over here and 
play if you want to.” 

Irene went in with the girls to give them the bene- 
fit of her taste in dressing for this important occasion. 
Mrs. Strong consented to let them wear the precious 
garments, if they would be very careful. They felt 
truly elegant crossing the street, in full array, hold- 
ing up their trailing robes like real ladies, followed 
by an admiring train of little girls. 

Amy wore her grandmother’s wedding dress, a 
fawn-colored silk quaintly made in the fashion of 
sixty years ago, and Kitty a plum-colored silk of the 
same date. Over her light silk Amy wore a black- 
lace long shawl, and her abundant hair was twisted 
on top of her head, and fastened with old ornaments. 
Kitty wore a white-crape long shawl tastefully draped 
by Irene, and her dark locks were twisted high and 
fastened with a huge tortoise-shell comb that had 
been Mrs. Strong’s grandmother’s. 

Miss Sadie laughed almost as much as the girls, 


Summer Vacation. 


109 


when she saw them radiant in all this finery. But it 
was long before the pictures were taken, because the 
girls could not keep their faces straight. Miss Sadie 
having posed them, and made everything ready, with 
her hand on the cap said, 

‘^Now keep perfectly still, girls. I’m going to 
take off the cap. Don’t laugh.” 

Whereupon both girls were seized with uncontrol- 
lable laughter, until even Miss Sadie had to laugh too, 
at seeing them. 

“ I really can’t help it. Miss Sadie,” said Amy. 

Kitty does look so funny and grandmotherly in that 
comb.” 

‘‘Amy’s sleeves are so long and wrinkly they make 
me laugh every time I look at her,” said Kitty with 
a fresh giggle. 

After several attempts, Miss Sadie finally secured 
a good picture of the quaint little figures. Both faces 
wore decidedly that “ pleasant smile ” so much coveted 
by photographers. 

Amy and Kitty ran in to display themselves to Mrs. 
Clover and Maude, and then, alas, had to put away 
their costumes, and come down to every-day clothes 
again. Amy begged to be allowed to run down to 
show themselves to Cousin Elizabeth, but her mother 
dared not trust the precious dresses so far from home, 
running the gauntlet of all the children on the avenue. 
Amy however found consolation in a new idea that 
had struck her fertile brain. 

“Kitty,” she said, “if you and Irene will help 
me bring all my big dolls outNioors, I will take their 
photographs.” 

“ What for ? ” asked Kitty. 


110 A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

Why, because I ’m going away soon, and of course 
I ought to have all my children’s pictures to take with 
me. Besides I want to show all my dolls to Faith, 
and I can’t take them all with me, even in my new 
trunk.” 

The garden bench was brought up on the kitchen 
porch, partly to avoid the too great interest of the 
little girls in Amy’s best dolls, of which she was as 
tender as any mother of her children. Lord Fauntle- 
roy, Violet, Mary, Undine (quite dry, but slightly 
wrinkly), the two Dinahs, Sylvia, Constance, Joseph, 
Austin, and two big Japanese dolls were arranged in a 
fine group, and sat delightfully still, not even laughing 
when their pictures were taken. Amy ran down into 
her dark room in the stable to wash off the plate, and 
came out, holding it up to the light, saying, — 

Oh girls, see how natural they look ! Is n’t their 
expression beautiful ? ” 

After luncheon, for two or three hours in summer 
time. Hillside Avenue usually looked deserted. Every 
blind of every house was shut, no one stirred abroad 
unless absolutely obliged, and one might have falsely 
supposed that there were no children on the avenue, 
so still and lonely did it seem. Wise mothers kept 
their children quietly in-doors during the hottest part 
of the day. Amy, fond as she was of her little friends, 
always enjoyed these quiet hours of rest, for then 
she could read, write, or draw, giving reins to her 
imagination uninterrupted. 

This afternoon the mercury stood at ninety-five, 
and the heat was almost unbearably sultry and breath- 
less. Amy sat writing in her own room by her favorite 
window that looked out into a white birch-tree, which 


Summer Vacation. 


Ill 


trembled and quivered all over at the remotest hint 
of a breeze, comforting the imagination and making 
one quite cool only to look at it. 

“ What are you writing, Amy ? asked her mother, 
as she came up stairs. 

Oh, different things. I wrote an ^ S ^ story first, 
and then T drew two men for opposite characters, and 
had one challenge the other.’’ 

The first letter was written in such a stern, black 
hand that Amy’s pencil had nearly gone through the 
paper in making the bold letters. It read, 

Rockdale, Portland County. 

Dear Sir, — Kindly oblige me by accepting a challenge 
for to-morrow evening, inasmuch as we both admire Miss 
Deardove. Being, of course, the gentleman I suppose you, 
you will without doubt accept so reasonable a challenge. 

Hoping you will oblige me, I am 

Respectfully yours, 

Benjamin Boldman. 

The reply, written in a trembling hand almost ille- 
gible, read. 

Tremble Hill, Flyaway County. 

Dear Sir, — I entreat your humble pardon, but am sud- 
denly called away on business. Pray do not think I am 
afraid. 

F. Fearfly. 

This is Miss Deardove,” said Amy. Is n’t she 
pretty ? I think she is one of the prettiest ladies I 
ever drew.” 

^‘Let me hear the story,” said Mrs. Strong, 
after she had sufficiently admired the too lovely Miss 
Deardove. 


112 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

It is n’t quite finished,” said Amy. 

Of course not,” said her mother. 

“ Ah now, mamma, you need n’t laugh. I had to 
stop to write up my chicken memorandum, because 
that is very important, you know.” 

In a little blank book, labelled on the outside. 
Memorandum of my Chickens,” Amy kept a record 
of important events in the chicken world. 

This was Amy’s S ” story : — 

Silly Sarah, slowly skating, stupidly slipped. 
She stained Sister Susan’s soft silk sash. Sarah 
soiled sweet Susan’s soft silk sash ! Shame, Sarah ! 

Sarah stole slowly and snailishly towards the 
seminary. 

^ See Silly Sarah shambling to school ! ’ scouted 
some slovenly spectators. 

^‘Such sarcasms shook sensitive Sarah’s soul; so, 
stumbling shamefacedly, she succeeded in securing 
the school sled. Seated on some straw, she soberly 
surveyed the shameful sight of Sister Susan’s second- 
best sash, stained, soiled, the side shockingly slit. 
She said she should shun skating, since she surely 
did not succeed. 

Sweet Susan sat sewing ” — 

‘‘ 1 hope you will finish that story, Amy,” said her 
mother. ‘^I am anxious to know how sweet Sister 
Susan stood the sorrowful sight of her spoiled sash. 
I am going to lie down now. I may fall asleep, so 
don’t speak to me for a little while.” 

Amy liked her mother’s sympathy in all her do- 
ings, and was apt to run to show her the last drawing, 
or read her the last story, so this caution was not un- 
necessary. After completing the chicken memoranda. 


Summer Vacation, 


113 


she resumed work on a continued story she wrote on 
when the fit seized her, called The Ups and Downs 
of the Noble Eamily.” This great work was now in 
its ninth chapter, called “ Calls, Cats and Cookies,’’ 
and Amy fondly cherished the hope of offering it to 
Roberts Brothers for publication as a book, should it 
ever by good luck be completed. 

So absorbed was she that she did not notice a 
rapidly approaching storm, until there came at once a 
vivid flash of lightning, a heavy peal of thunder, and 
a sweeping downfall of rain dashing in on her as she 
sat by the window. She hurriedly closed her win- 
dows, while Nora and Bridget ran from attic to first 
floor shutting doors and windows. Amy was not 
often afraid in thunder showers, so she resumed 
her writing. But this proved a storm of unusual 
severity. Rain mingled with hail beat against the 
windows in torrents that threatened each moment to 
break the glass, incessant flashing lightning illumi- 
nated the darkness with blinding white light, and 
finally there came a tremendous clap of thunder that 
shook the house as it seemed to roll along the 
roof. 

Mrs. Strong’s door was opened, and a rather 
Fearfly-ish voice said, “Mamma, are you awake? 
May I come in and lie on your bed a little while ? ” 

“Yes, come, dear,” said her mother. “This really 
is a terribly severe storm. There! that flash must 
have struck quite near us, I am sure.” 

Amy leaped on the bed and nestled down close to 
her mother. At that moment, Bridget dashed into 
the room without the ceremony of knocking, so 
alarmed was she. She held a bottle of holy water in 
8 


114 A Jolly Good Summer. 

her hand, and coming to the bed, sprinkled some over 
Amy and Mrs. Strong, saying as she did so. 

In the name of the Father and the Son and the 
Holy Ghost ! ’’ 

“ You need n’t be afraid now, Amy,” she said, as 
she left the room ; “ nothing can hurt you now.” 
Thank you, Bridget,” said Mrs. Strong. 

Amy was much impressed by this dramatic action 
of Bridget’s. 

“ Do you believe that does any good, mamma ? ” she 
asked. 

‘^No, I do not,” said Mrs. Strong, “but Bridget 
does, and she did the best she could for us, so we 
must take it kindly as Bridget meant it.” 

When the storm had somewhat abated, Mr. Green, 
with his big rubber rain-coat that came to his heels 
and made him look like an elephant, all dripping and 
shining with wet, dropped into the kitchen to tell 
Bridget and Nora that the chimney of Mr. Wallace’s 
house on Grand Avenue just below them had been 
struck by lightning and knocked all to pieces. 

“ I knew this house would n’t be struck,” said 
Bridget, with much satisfaction in her wise precau- 
tions. “ There ’s nothing like a little holy water 
sprinkled around a house.” 

The shower settled at last into a gentle rain, most 
grateful, as there had been a long drought. The 
parched grass began already to turn perceptibly green 
again, the trees uplifted their dripping branches in a 
thankfulness you could almost feel, and the porch 
honey-suckles and revived flower-beds filled the 
warm, damp air with sweet fragrance. 

After dinner, Kitty and Bob came over on Amy’s 


Summer Vacation, 


115 


porch. Poor old Duke wanted to come too, but 
Amy’s cat Prince sat up so straight, glaring at him so 
fiercely with bushy tail, that he dared not venture, 
but lingered under the Clover’s porte-cochere, looking 
wistfully over to the land of delights he was not al- 
lowed to enter. 

“ How much dogs do know,” said Kitty. Look 
at Duke.” 

Here Duke gave a bark in delighted recognition of 
his name, and drew nearer, wagging his tail in the 
most conciliatory manner. 

Yes, and look at Prince too,” said Amy. ^^She 
knows as well as I do that this is her own house, 
and that Duke dare not touch her here. She would 
be afraid to face him anywhere else. Sometimes I 
think animals know as much as people. Don’t you 
remember Frank Foote, what a cunning, knowing 
dog he was ? ” 

I saw a dog do a first-rate thing last Saturday, 
when I was in the city,” said Eob. ^^A gentleman 
rode up near the Galt House, with a big mastiff fol- 
lowing him. When he went into a building, he put 
the bridle into the dog’s mouth, saying, ‘Now be 
careful, Caesar.’ That dog sat there like a boy, hold- 
ing the reins tight in his mouth, not taking the least 
notice of the crowd that gathered around to watch 
him. Just then that fire broke out in the Galt House. 
The engines and hose-carts and ladder wagons came 
galloping up, and there was the biggest kind of a 
tearing about and excitement right around the dog 
and horse. The horse was frightened by the engines, 
and jumped about trying his best to get away. But 
it was of no use. That dog set his jaws and held on. 


116 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

and the harder the horse pulled, the more determined 
he looked. It was as much as ten minutes before his 
master came out. When he mounted and rode off, 
the crowd gave a big cheer for the dog.’^ 

He did better than some boys would, I think/’ 
said Kitty. They would have dropped the reins to 
run to the fire.” 

Mrs. Evarts told me such a nice true dog story 
the other day,” said Amy. Her family owned a 
Newfoundland dog named Neptune when she was a 
little girl. At that time, she sometimes walked 
in her sleep. One night about midnight, she rose 
sound asleep, walked down stairs, unbolted the door, 
went out of the yard, and started to walk down the 
street. Neptune knew something was wrong and fol- 
lowed her, trying in every way to make her go back. 
He took her nightdress in his mouth and tried to pull 
her back. Einding that did not stop her, he put him- 
self directly in front of her and pushed against her. 
In this way he at last succeeded in making her turn 
back, and finally he brought her safe to her own 
room. The next morning when she came into the 
breakfast room, he stood right up and put his paws 
on her shoulders, he was so glad to see her safe. 
And after that, he insisted on sleeping every night 
across the threshold of her bedroom door.” 

What a knowing old fellow,” said Kob. What 
became of him ? ” 

He died while she was away at boarding-school, 
supposed to have been poisoned by some chicken 
thieves. Mrs. Evarts said she felt almost as if one of 
the family had died, when she heard of it.” 

Here Duke, who had been standing afar off wag- 


Summer Vacation. 


117 


ging his tail, seeming to understand that the merits 
of dogs were being discussed, unable to endure his 
banishment any longer, made a bold dash up on the 
Strong’s porch. Prince, bristling with rage, flew at 
him, and would soon have literally “scratched out 
both his eyes,” had not Kob, Amy, and Kitty all 
rushed to the rescue. Duke fled for home with his 
tail between his legs, while Amy shut Prince up in 
the front hall, where she glared and hissed behind 
the screen door as if she would jump through it, 
unabashed by Amy’s saying severely, 

“Prince, I am ashamed of you! You behave dis- 
gracefully! Ko respectable cat would act in that 
way.” 

Amy brought her little round table that Philip gave 
her out on the porch, and the three children played 
“ Messenger Boy ” and “ Authors,” with light refresh- 
ments of raspberry vinegar and cookies, happy 
enough even if the rain did prevent their usual even- 
ing sports on the lawn. 

“I know one thing,” said Eob, as he and Kitty 
were starting for home. “ I ’m awful glad to- 
morrow’s the first of J uly. Begins to seem as if the 
Fourth would get along after a while. I thought it 
never would come.” 


118 


A Jolly Crood Summer. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE GLORIOUS FOURTH. 

J ACK was slowly getting better. In fact, he con- 
sidered himself quite well, but wise Dr. Mellin 
had fixed July fifth as the date for that reappearance 
of Jack in the outdoor world, for which he was so 
impatient. 

“ Provided,” said the doctor, that the Fourth does’ 
not bring on a relapse, in spite of all our care. Keep 
him as quiet as possible, Mrs. Neale, and on no 
account let him down stairs.” 

Against this firm mandate of Dr. Mellin’s Jack 
rebelled and pleaded in vain. 

can’t have any fun,” he said, almost crying, 
shut up in a bedroom Fourth of July. And it ’s my 
birthday, too.” 

We ’ll all fire off our crackers right under your 
windows, where you can see us. Jack,” said Ronald. 

It ’s no fun to see other folks shoot off crackers,” 
whined Jack. 

Don’t worry, dear child,” said his mother. If 
you are pretty well, I will let you go out on the 
balcony and fire your crackers. And that will be 
the very best place of all for mamma and her boy to 
see papa’s fine fireworks in the evening.” 


Tlie Glorious Fourth. 119 

I ’d rather be right in it,” said Jack, only partly 
consoled. 

Jack had been rewarded for taking medicine man- 
fully by various sums of money from his indulgent, 
father, so that he had accumulated quite a handsome 
sum during his illness to buy supplies for the Fourth. 
Jack was anything but a miser. One day, as the 
Fourth drew near, he called Phyllis to him and 
said : — 

Here ’s ten cents for you to buy shooting crackers 
with, Phyllis. And I wish you ’d go and ask Billy 
Barlow, and Oscar, and Dixon, and Jimmy Posey to 
come up here a minute.” 

To each of these friends Jack gave some of the 
wealth burning in his pocket, and felt all the better 
prepared to enter on the joys of the Fourth for hav- 
ing shared his fortune with his friends. 

The intermittent popping of fire-crackers that had 
kept up through the month of June, wholly ceased as 
the Fourth drew near, because every one was saving 
himself up for a grand outburst on that day. All 
the fathers came home the evening before the Fourth 
laden with packages of strange shape and huge size, 
even to Professor Strong, who considered the noisy 
celebration of the day a nuisance, but who had 
relented at the last moment under Amy’s plead- 
ings. 

Amy saw him coming down the avenue, and ran 
to meet him, hippity-hopping for joy. 

Oh, goody,” she said, what loads of things you 
did buy, did n’t you, papa ? Shall I help you carry 
them ? What ’s in this great long bundle ? And 
what ’s this heavy thing ? ” 


120 A Jolly Good Summer, 

A flower-pot, I believe they call it. And the long 
bundle has Eoman candles, and a few rockets. Great 
nonsense, the whole of it,” said the Professor. 

^^Ah, jjapa, you wouldn’t want me to go around 
firing off other people’s things, and not have any of 
my own ! All the children are going to have just lots 
and lots of things. Cousin George has about a wagon 
load of fire-works, I should think. Eonald took me 
up in the attic to see them. Mr. Clover has such a 
big pile. And Captain Brownell has bought ever so 
many, because he^s a naval officer, you know, and of 
course he has to be patriotic, Irene says.” 

“ Well, it will soon be over now,’’ said the 
Professor. 

Irene ran up in the evening to arrange her plans 
with Amy and Kitty. 

“ We must get up very early, girls,” she said. 

“Bob and the other boys mean to be up by four 
o’clock,” said Kitty. 

Then we must too.” 

It was agreed therefore that the girls should meet 
at precisely four o’clock the next morning, to properly 
begin the celebration of the nation’s birthday. But 
Mrs. Strong, when informed of this plan, would not 
agree to call Amy at that hour, feeling that the day 
would be quite fatiguing enough for Amy’s strength, 
even if begun at the usual time. 

If you happen to wake yourself, you may get up,” 
she said, “ but I shall not call you.” 

Secretly she felt sure that Amy, always sleepy in 
the morning, would not waken. 

At midnight came from the city the distant sound 
of a mighty tumult; the ringing of every bell and 


The Glorious Fourth. 


121 


the screeching of steam fire-engine, steamboat and 
factory whistles ; a most unearthly din, even as 
heard from afar in the suburbs, where the popping of 
crackers and firing of pistols had been carried on 
intermittently all night. Sunrise was ushered in by 
the booming of a cannon, or more probably an anvil, 
on Brooks Street. But Amy slept through all, much 
to her mother’s satisfaction. 

But suddenly under Amy’s window came a tremen- 
dous bang ! ” effectually wakening every one in the 
neighborhood who had managed to sleep any before. 
It was a cannon cracker, fired by the irrepressible 
Bob. Amy bounded out of bed. There were Kitty, 
Bob, and Irene on the Clover’s driveway, with piles 
of crackers, punk, and a lighted candle, hard at work, 
while poor Duke, not knowing what to make of these 
fearful noises, stood at a safe distance, barking and 
howling dismally, not liking the Fourth any better 
than Professor Strong. 

I ’ll be down in a minute,” called Amy from the 
window. 

‘^Put on your old blue dress, Amy,” called her 
mother, ^^and come in here and let me braid your 
hair.” 

Ever since Amy had burned about twenty little 
holes in the front of a new gingham dress one Fourth 
of July, her mother had insisted on her wearing an 
old woollen dress. The other girls were similarly 
dressed, to avoid all danger of catching fire. 

All the children were out and busy, and a brisk 
firing and banging was going on the whole length of 
the avenue. Every now and then came a rattling 
salute when some enterprising boy let off a whole 


122 A Jolly Good Summer, 

pack of crackers under a tin pan or barrel, while an 
occasional cannon-cracker split every one’s head open ; 
at least Mrs. Kaiser was heard to declare that her 
head was split open. 

After breakfast, everyone decorated. Mrs. Hern- 
don’s porch was all aglow with swinging Japane&3 
lanterns. Captain Brownell flung out to the breeze 
a handsome large banner, worthy the United Sta ges 
Navy. Amy climbed nimbly up the step-ladder, 
hanging Japanese lanterns across the front ol her 
porch, and sticking little flags all over the honey- 
suckle vines. Maude, Kitty, and Rob were busy, Rob 
climbing out the second story window on the porch 
roof, and, under Maude’s directions, succeeding in 
fastening flags in what seemed impossible plaees. Ben 
Bruce planted his big flag on its flag-staff in the centre 
of his father’s lawn. Dixon marched up and down the 
avenue, a procession of one, waving a small flag, 
being, in his own mind, an army with banners. No 
person with the usual number of eyes and ears could 
have doubted the patriotism of Hillside Avenue that 
day, all blue with gunpowder smoke and ablaze with 
the Star-Spangled Banner as it was, from one end to 
the other. 

After a while, Amy took time to run down to 
Cousin Elizabeth’s fco ^^see how poor little Jack was 
getting along.” Poor little Jack seemed to be having 
the best time of any one. From his vantage point in 
the balcony he threw down lighted crackers on all 
sides, that sometimes exploded in the air in the most 
satisfactory manner. The novelty of having Jack 
penned up in the balcony throwing his crackers abroad, 
and the delight of all the experiments he invented 


The Glorious Fourth, 


123 


inspired by bis new situation, drew around a crowd of 
small boys, who threw crackers back at Jack, and 
encouraged him by calling up, — 

I bet you can’t hit me ! Let ’s see you let off a 
whole pack at once in the air. You don’t dare hold 
one in your hand and let it go off, Jack,” and so on. 

Cousin Elizabeth, who had experienced Fourth of 
July before, had early in the morning established a 
temporary hospital ward in the front hall. On the 
table ready for instant use were a bundle of linen 
rags, and bottles of arnica and sweet oil. When any 
one’s linger was burned, she called the sufferer in, 
dressed the wound, and did him up on the spot. Ab- 
sorbed in these surgical duties, and in trying to keep 
the irrepressible J ack from killing himself or any one 
else, and Phyllis from setting herself on fire, she did 
not fully realize the effects of Jack’s patriotism. 
But the next day, when Annette went out to sweep 
off the front porch, she came in to report it ‘‘a 
perfect sight,” and so indeed it was. Steps and 
porch, even the stone walk, were found to be pep- 
pered all over with burnt spots from Jack’s rain of 
fire-crackers. 

At noon Amy came in to dress, for she, Irene, Ben, 
and Paul had been asked by Mr. Clover to accompany 
Mrs. Clover and his own children to the grand cele- 
bration at the House of Befuge, of which institution 
Mr. Clover had long been a director. When the two 
carriages drove up to the Clover’s door, it would 
have been hard to recognize in the boys, all shining 
with cleanliness and their best clothes, and the girls 
so sweet and dainty in their white dresses and leg- 
horn hats, the smoke-begrimed children who, an hour 


124 A Jolly Good Summer, 

before, had been shooting crackers in their oldest 
garments. 

The House of Eefuge is one among many wise and 
beautiful charities in the city of Cincinnati. It is 
a reformatory where are sent children guilty of small 
crimes, children whose parents or guardians cannot 
control them, and unfortunate children, either orphans 
or those neglected or abandoned by their parents. 
Here they are cared for, trained in right ways, taught 
trades, helped to make useful men and women, and 
good homes are found for them. The Refuge is sup- 
ported by the city. Its directors have always been 
from among the prominent citizens, gentlemen who 
freely give much time and thought to the work solely 
in a spirit of humanity, from a genuine love of 
children and desire to help them. During the forty- 
three years since its establishment, between eight and 
nine thousand children have been its inmates, of whom 
over eighty per cent are known to have been perman- 
ently benefited. 

Kitty and Rob always felt a trip to the House of 
Refuge a great privilege, as they were only allowed 
to go now and then, on special occasions. To-day they 
were unusally gay and happy, because they knew the 
Fourth at the Refuge to be a great day, and especially 
because some of their favorite friends were to share 
their pleasure. Amy, Irene, Ben, and Paul, who had 
never visited the Refuge, were full of anticipation, 
whetted by Rob and Kitty’s glowing accounts of the 
delights to be expected. 

As they drove into the grounds, they were dis- 
mayed to see the crowds of people pouring in. 

am afraid we are too late,” said Amy. ‘‘We 
shall not be able to even get in.” 


The Glorious Fourth, 


125 


Oh, papa ’s a director, you know,” said Kitty, so 
there are always seats saved on the platform for 
us.” 

Amy perceived the advantages of being related to 
a director when the polite Assistant Superintendent 
made a pathway for their party through the envious 
crowd pressing around the chapel doors, and ushered 
them to fine seats on the platform, where were seated 
the other directors and their families, the speakers, 
and various honored guests. Later the doors were 
opened, and all admitted who could find seats. The 
rest had to content themselves with waiting outside 
for the exercises later on the grounds. The seats in 
the body of the house, reserved for the Kefuge boys, 
were still vacant. 

Presently one of the lady teachers took her seat at 
the piano, and struck up a march. The doors in the 
rear opened, and the fourth division, the youngest 
boys, marched in, two by two, and took their seats. 
Then followed the thirdj second, and first divisions of 
boys. All the boys were dressed in blue uniforms, 
and each division had its own officers, promoted from 
the ranks for good conduct. These officers with their 
shoulder straps, standing erect at the head of the 
seats until their division was seated, presented a fine, 
soldierly appearance. The girls were 'marched into 
the gallery extending across the rear of the chapel. 
There were nearly three hundred children in all, 
about' one-third girls. 

It was long before the shy Amy could lift her eyes 
to face all these children. Kot until they rose to sing 
did she venture to look at them. The exercises con- 
sisted of singing and speaking. Bright boys were 


126 A Jolly Good Summer. 

selected to speak patriotic pieces appropriate to the 
day. Proudly did the young orators ascend the 
platform, and loudly were their fiery utterances 
applauded by the other boys. 

No one could look over that sea of youthful faces 
without being deeply moved. Some of the faces, 
especially among the older boys, looked hard and 
bad, but many boys had fine heads and good faces, 
and were evidently here not so much from innate 
badness, as from evil surroundings and infiuences. 
One could not help feeling what a power in the world 
either for good or bad were these two hundred boys ; 
what a difference it made to their city whether they 
grew up to be upright, true, industrious citizens, or 
lapsed into downright criminals. Touching was it to 
see the tiny little ones, as good and sweet as any 
children, who simply had never had a chance. How 
Christ-like seemed the effort to save all these 
children, good and bad, and give them the chance in 
life that fate seemed to have denied them. 

It was something worth while to hear the Eefuge 
children let themselves out in the singing. Perhaps 
the effect could hardly be called melodious, but the 
immense volume, heartiness, and swing of it were 
certainly inspiring. In ‘‘ The Ked, White, and Blue,’’ 
it seemed as if the building’s brick walls were in 
danger before the tremendous outburst on the chorus, 

“ Thy banners make tyranny tremble 
When borne by the red, white, and blue.” 

If tyranny ” did not tremble, it certainly was not 
the boys’ fault. The Hillside Avenue children 


The Crlorious Fourth. 


127 


caught the inspiration, and sang with might and 
main, though Irene whispered to Amy, between the 
verses, — 

I can’t hear a word I ’m singing, can you ? ” 

‘‘No,” said Amy, “I feel my lips going, and that 
is all.” 

In the gallery were several colored girls, endowed 
with the rich plaintive contralto voice that seems the 
especial gift of their race, as if born of long years of 
suffering. In “Tenting on the Old Camp Ground,” 
the boys sang the song, the girls coming in on the 
chorus, the contralto voices so effective as to bring 
tears to many eyes in the touching pathos they threw 
into 

“ Tenting to-night, tenting to-night. 

Tenting on the old camp ground.” 

“ Hail Columbia ” and the “ Star-Spangled Banner” 
were fairly torn to pieces by the onset of the three 
hundred lusty voices. Then all sat down, much 
refreshed by this outpouring of song, and Mr. Clover 
and another director made short addresses. A lady 
sang a solo, a gentleman executed a brilliant fantasia 
on the violin with piano accompaniment. Then the 
children stood again and sang “ Marching through 
Georgia.” It was enough to make any one want to 
bleed and die for his country, then and there, only to 
hear the Refuge children come down on 

“ When we were marching through Georgia.” 

The singing of “ America ” concluded the chapel 
exercises, and the audience felt that the country ought 
to be safe, for another year, at least. 


128 A Jolly Good Summer, 

The company adjourned to the large field of five 
acres surrounded by high brick walls in the rear 
of the buildings. On one side an amphitheatre of 
seats was erected, capable of accommodating two or 
three hundred persons, but the seats were as nothing 
to-day to the crowd that overflowed them, and camped 
out on the grass all around. Good places had however 
been reserved for the directors and their friends. 

Now came a military drill, in which the boys’ 
appearance did themselves and their drill-master 
much credit, and a fine flag-drill by the little children 
of the Kindergarten class, who were pretty and cun- 
ning, as all little children are. Next followed all 
sorts of races ; a sack-race, hurdle-race, foot-race, 
potato-race, barrel-race, and the climbing a greased 
pole, in all of which pleasing exercises the Hillside 
Avenue children took the deepest interest, laughing 
until they were tired. On top of the greased pole 
was a fine base-ball bat, the prize of the lucky fellow 
who could take it down. As one failed, another 
sprang forward to take his place. 

There,” said Eob, “I believe that fellow’s going 
to get it. See, he can almost touch it now. Oh, 
is n’t that too bad ! ” cried Eob and all the otlier 
children, who had been watching the seeming winner 
with breathless interest, as, a moment later, he slid 
slowly and helplessly down the pole, just before he 
had touched the bat, amidst the laughs and jeers of 
boys and men. 

Now a boy started up the pole who was evidently 
resolved to win. Apparently he had prepared his 
hands in such a way that they would not slip, and he 
made each grasp tell, going up the pole with a steady. 


The Glorious Fourth. 


129 


dogged determination that made one think what a 
fine thing it would be if he should put the same grit 
and steady upward pull into his life. He brought 
the bat down, amid the ringing applause of the 
multitude. 

That is the kind of boy that can be whatever he 
sets out to be, that goes to the top everywhere, when- 
ever he makes up his mind that he will,’’ said Mr. 
Clover to the gentleman next him. 

At the close there was a foot-race open to the 
spectators. Kob, Ben, and Paul could not resist 
this, and made a fine spurt around the track, com- 
ing back flushed with heat, if not with glory. 

After the exercises in the field were over, Mr. 
Clover took his party all over the buildings, into the 
school-rooms, sleeping-rooms, the tin-shop, tailor, 
carpenter, and shoe shops and printing-office, where 
the boys were taught trades as one means of helping 
them to an honest manhood. In the large dining- 
room they had the good fortune to encounter the 
pleasant-faced matron, evidently a woman of much 
penetration, for she said, — 

These children must be hungry. Let me give 
them some of our gingerbread.” 

It was something to see as many loaves of ginger- 
bread at once as the matron’s store revealed ; and she 
cut the children huge chunks of the same size and 
shape as those stacked beside each plate in the dining- 
room. Dinner-time being near, and the gingerbread 
soft and new, the children did not find fault with the 
size of the pieces. 

They did not stay for the fireworks in the evening, 
which Eob assured them were immense, I tell you,” 

9 


130 A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

but drove home towards sunset, a happy, chattering 
company, full of laugh and talk over the amusing 
incidents of the races. 

After dinner, it was delightful to get out of their 
best clothes, and into their fire-cracker costumes 
again, and prepare for the joys of the evening. 
Before the sun had hardly vanished. Bob thought it 
was time to begin the fireworks. But his father, with 
that provoking lack of enthusiasm sometimes mark- 
ing fathers, kept saying, — 

Wait a while. Bob. It is too early yet.” 

There goes a fire balloon now,” said Bob, looking 
up into the summer evening sky, where, far aloft, 
apparently among the stars which were beginning 
faintly to twinkle here and there, floated a red ball. 

Whiz“Z~z-z ! ” 

There ! The Goodings are sending off their rockets 
already ! And there goes another over at Oak Grove ! 
And the Poseys and the Neales are beginning. Can’t 
I begin now, father ? ” 

Seeing that Bob was no longer to be suppressed, 
Mr. Clover, cheerfully aided by Bob and Kitty, 
brought their huge pile of fireworks out on the porch. 

Amy now flew about to get hers ready for action. 
Something of the boy that lies dormant in every man, 
no matter how old and staid he is, woke up in 
Professor Strong, and he took an active part in help- 
ing Amy send off her fireworks, quite as if he enjoyed 
it. The rockets were a trial to Amy’s nerves, and 
she much preferred the Boman candles. 

See,” she cried to her mother, who sat on the 
porch, looking on, “I am a fairy, and I wave my 
magic wand and make stars.” 


The Grlorious Fourth. 


131 


The little figure so slender and erect, waving 
proudly the dark wand, whence shot forth in every 
direction dazzling stars of brilliant color, did look 
fairy-like indeed, in her mother’s opinion. 

When her last pin-wheel had flopped its last flop, 
when even the big flower-pot had gone up in a blaze 
of glory, Amy ran over to the Clovers’, where several 
other children had obligingly come to help Kob and 
Kitty with their fireworks. 

Hillside Avenue was now under a full headway of 
Fourth of July glory. Whizzing rockets shot up 
through the trees in every direction, and from all 
sides came the Oh-h-h ! Ah-h~h ! ” of irrepressi- 
ble admiration as, far aloft, the rockets broke into 
shimmering showers of many-colored stars. All up 
and down the avenue red fire lighted up trees and 
houses picturesquely, and against its glare could be 
seen many little black figures hopping and darting 
actively about, like so many brownies. Great was 
the banging and whizzing, and brilliant the effects. 
In the midst of it all, much excitement was created 
by the appearance of a large fire-balloon, about five 
feet tall, slowly descending upon the avenue. An 
eager crowd of boys followed below it, falling over 
each other as they ran with eyes fixed on the balloon, 
shouting, — 

“ It ’s going into that tree ! ” “ No, it is n’t ! ” 

Yes it is ! ” Here she comes ! ” “ There it 

is!” 

It ’s coming down on your lawn, Amy,” said Rob. 

Oh, how nice,” said Amy. 

The balloon did descend upon the Strongs’ lawn, 
that is, it would have done so, but before it could 


132 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

touch the ground the foremost boys seized it and 
bore it off as legitimate spoils of war. 

I did n’t care so very much about it,” said Amy, 
making the best of her loss. 

When six or seven girls and boys, wild with excite- 
ment, are all shooting off fireworks together, some- 
thing usually happens. In vain did Mr. Clover use 
his utmost vigilance to make them careful; in vain 
did he caution them, — 

Eob, don’t aim so low. Shoot higher. Kitty, 
stand farther off. Amy, don’t point your Roman 
candle towards the house. Van, be more careful. 
Ben, aim that straight up.” 

Mrs. Strong and Mrs. Clover also called out words 
of warning from their respective porches. Before 
long, a cry of pain was heard through the darkness. 

There ! I was afraid some one would be hurt,” 
said Mrs. Strong, running over to the Clovers’ porch. 

Is it you, Amy ? ” 

^^Eob shot a star out of a Eoman candle right 
into Laura’s eye ! ” 

I did n’t mean to,” said Eob. I was waving 
it about, and I didn’t see where the stars were 
going.” 

Laura was crying, partly from fright, partly from 
pain. Every one was alarmed, an injury to the eye is 
so serious a matter. Mrs. Clover and Mrs. Strong 
took Laura into the house, bathed the eye with sooth- 
ing applications, and found, much to their relief, that 
the star had gone luckily, not into the eye, but close 
above it. When the pain had abated, Laura, her 
zeal for Fourth of July not at all lessened, sat on the 
porch with a bandage over one eye, and watched the 


The Grlorious Fourth. 


133 


fireworks with the other. Rob burned a finger 
badly, but that was the only other accident that 
night. 

When every one else had subsided, when even the 
Clovers and Neales had fired their last shot, the 
lucky Posey boys, whose father had fireworks for sale 
in his store, still kept on with a brilliant display. At 
last, however, a deep, blessed quiet settled down over 
the avenue, unbroken by a sound. The tired children 
gladly took to their beds after the long, happy day? 
and every one slept hard that night. The Fourth ’’ 
was over for another year. 

The next morning, as Cousin Elizabeth was dress- 
ing, she remarked to her husband, — 

“ I am so thankful that Fourth of July is over, and 
none of the children are hurt. Jack burned one hand 
a little, but still not seriously, and I think he is 
none the worse for — 

“ Bang ! Whang ! ’’ came a loud report from in 
front of the house, followed by a howl of pain. 

“ Oh dear, what can that be ! cried Cousin Eliza- 
beth. That was Ronald’s voice, I am sure.” 

She and Mr. Neale rushed down stairs, to find 
Annette bringing Ronald in from the lawn in sad 
plight. Ronald had risen before any one else in the 
house was up, and gone out with the virtuous inten- 
tion, as he said, of picking up the scattered scraps of 
red and blue paper, rocket sticks and empty Roman 
candles, the remains of last night’s glories, whose 
debris strewed the whole lawn. There was a flower- 
pot which had not exploded the night before, as 
Ronald had perhaps noticed. Examining it, and find- 
ing it still well filled with powder, he had been struck 


134 A Jolly Good Summer. 

with the happy idea of pouring its contents out on the 
walk and touching a match to the heap. 

Ronald ! How could you do such a thing ! ’’ 
exclaimed his mother. 

I wanted to see what it would do/’ moaned 
Ronald. 

He had soon learned what powder will do when 
you apply a lighted match to it. Roth his face and 
hands were badly burned, and his eyebrows and 
lashes singed olf. There was much anxiety about his 
eyes, which pained him severely. His face was al- 
ready so swollen that it was impossible to tell how 
serious was the injury to the eyes. What if Ronald 
were doomed to go through life blind, thought 
his parents with sinking hearts. ^ 

The doctor was hurriedly summoned, and Ronald 
was put to bed in a dark room, face and hands 
swathed in linen cloths wet often with healing and 
cooling lotions. His pain threw him into a fever. 
Patiently did his loving mother, but lately released 
from attendance on Jack’s sick bed, sit beside him all 
the long, hot day in the close, darkened room, trying 
to comfort Ronald, and alleviate a little his suffering. 
What a blessed invention mothers are, and what 
would girls and boys do without them ? As one 
whom his mother comforteth ” are the Bible’s words 
to describe the love of God. 


Going Away, 


135 


CHAPTER X. 

GOING AWAY. 

P hilip and Gladys had been on the island a 
month, and their enthusiastic letters describing 
its delights aggravated Amy’s impatience to be there. 
The continued heat had taken away both her color 
and appetite, leaving her pale and languid, and her 
mother, realizing how much she needed a change, 
hastened her preparations. 

The note of departure had begun to sound all up 
and down the avenue. Every day the big railway 
wagon went by, piled high with trunks. Dr. 
Trimble’s family had already been some time at 
their island in Lake Erie, near Put-in-Bay. Professor 
and Mrs. Evarts had departed for the West Virginia 
mountains. The closed houses begj^n to make Hill- 
side Avenue seem rather lonely. 

Cousin Elizabeth had only been waiting for Ronald 
to recover sufficiently from his gunpowder experiment 
to start for the seashore. Ronald was now well 
enough to travel. True, he looked rather odd with 
no eyebrows or lashes, and the red scars on his 
cheeks were not becoming. It was quite certain that 
no artists would be tormenting him to sit for his 
picture this summer. But his parents were so thank- 
ful that his eyes were not permanently injured, they 


136 A Jolly Good Summer. 

felt his loss of beauty a comparatively small trial. 
When Amy went over one evening, as she often did, 
to carry some flowers to Cousin Elizabeth, her cousin 
said, — 

Well, Amy, we are really off at last ; we go day 
after to-morrow, unless something happens. I am 
impatient to get away before anything else happens 
to the children. George engaged our sleeping berths 
yesterday.’^ 

‘‘ I wish we were ready to go too,’^ said Amy, “ it 
would be such fun to travel together. Mamma ex- 
pects to go next week sometime. I can hardly wait 
for the time to come.’’ 

The next night, Amy and Kitty went down to bid 
Laura good-by, as she was to leave early the next 
morning. The Dawsons were going to spend the 
summer at their cottage among the pines and lakelets 
of Northern Michigan, stopping awhile in Indiana on 
the way. 

“You must be sure to write to me, girls, and tell 
me all about the fun you are having,” said Laura. 

“We will, if you will write first,” said the girls. 

The departure of the three Dawson children, and 
of Eonald, Jack, and Phyllis, left a perceptible void 
on the avenue, even although there were plenty 
of children still left on this populous street. But 
when the Clovers went away, Amy would have found 
it hard to be resigned, but for the knowledge that she 
herself was so soon to leave. 

The Clovers all came over to the Strongs to say 
good-by. Mrs. Clover was going to take the children 
to her mother’s farm, about eighty miles north of 
Cincinnati, and leave them there for the summer 


137 


Going Away. 

vacation, returning herself after a short visit. The 
children were all brightness and animation: Kitty had 
on a new blue sailor suit and hat, and Kob was magnifi- 
cent in a new summer suit, new straw hat, and new 
tan shoes. 

I fear, Kob, those shoes and clothes will not look 
quite so nice and fresh when you come back,” said 
Mrs. Strong. 

I ’m afraid not,” said Kob, laughing. We 
always have lots of fun up at grandma’s.” 

“ I know it took five pair of trousers to carry him 
through last summer on the farm,” said his mother, 

and hats and shoes without number.” 

Amy and Kitty, their arms around each other’s 
waists, walked down to the electric car together. 
There was much kissing good-by, and many promises 
to write often. Duke followed the party down too, 
and seemed to suspect that something was wrong. 
He stood looking wistfully after the open car from 
which Kitty and Rob were still waving farewells to 
Amy as they glided swiftly away. Then he followed 
Amy home, and clung closely to her after that, seem- 
ing to have adopted her for his little mistress. 

Irene and Amy were constantly together now, and 
Irene said, mournfully, — 

I really don’t know what I shall do, Amy, after 
you are gone.” 

I will write you all about the island,” said Amy. 
^^And you are going to have that lovely trip on 
your father’s steamer. I think that will be really 
fascinating.” 

‘^Yes, I think it will be very pleasant,” said Irene. 

We are going to take Dixie, you know, and if 
mamma decides to go, we shall take Sandy too.” 


138 A Jolly Good Summer, 

How funny/’ said Amy, for a bird to take a 
voyage ! ” 

Oh, Sandy belongs to the navy, you know,” said 
Irene. 

Sandy was Irene’s bird, a great pet in the family, 
even Mrs. Brownell addressing him as darling 
child.” 

Amy’s new trunk with ‘‘A. S.” in big letters on one 
end, had duly come out from Shillito’s. A wonder- 
ful trunk it was, not only in Amy’s opinion, but in 
that of those children on the street who were taken 
upstairs to admire it. Amy had already packed and 
unpacked it several times. To pack her trunk, 
seemed to bring the time for going to the island 
nearer. 

When her mother came to pack the trunk in earn- 
est, she found it nearly filled, though no clothing had 
yet gone in, and most of Amy’s work had to be undone. 

‘^You can’t possibly take this game of Messenger 
Boy, Amy,” said her mother, ‘^or these other games. 
They fill up the trunk so.” 

“I thought it would be so pleasant to play with 
them on the island,” said Amy. 

You will not use them there. You will play out- 
doors all the time. The paint boxes will be useful for 
rainy days. And I suppose you will want all these 
drawing-blocks and pencils. But you cannot take all 
these dolls. Dolls take up so much room.” 

Dolls were always a mooted point in travelling, 
between Mrs. Strong and Amy. Amy loved her dolls 
like children, and half believed they would pine for 
her during her absence. One summer when Amy was 
younger, Mrs. Strong went east with thirteen dolls in 


139 


Going Away. 

her trunk, four of them being little dolls, tucked in 
surreptitiously by Amy just before the trunk was 
locked, and not discovered until it was opened. 

“I wanted to bring them on to see their aunt 
Dinah,’’ was Amy’s excuse, Dinah being a venerable 
rag doll of her mother’s childhood, then kept at 
grandpa’s house in Massachusetts, but now in Amy’s 
possession. 

I thought I could take more dolls now I had a 
trunk of my own,” said Amy. 

“No. You must remember that you are larger 
now, and your clothes and hats take up much more i 
room than formerly. I can get in one large doll.” 

“ Then you may pack Lord Fauntleroy, and I will 
take Violet in the cars with me for company,” said 
Amy. “And do please, mamma, just squeeze Undine 
in somewhere. I want her to go East on account of 
her beautiful bathing suit. Besides, I think her 
health needs a change.” 

This compromise being made, Amy turned her at- 
tention to putting on Violet’s travelling dress, and 
packing that 5"oung lady’s extensive wardrobe in a 
little brown hand-satchel that Faith had given Am}^, 
which she always used for dolls’ clothes on her trips 
East. Then she ran around the neighborhood to say 
good-by to all her little friends. 

This was quite superfluous, for the next morning, 
when Professor Strong was escorting his wife and 
Amy to take the car for the station, the little folks 
were all out on the sidewalk, sorry to see Amy going 
away, but crying, — 

“ Good-by, Amy. I hope you ’ll have a nice time.” 

Even Mr. Green, who always took an outside part 


140 A Jolly Good Summer, 

in whatever of importance occurred on Hillside 
Avenue, contrived to be standing out by Dr. Trimble’s 
as they passed along, and waved his hand with a 
friendly grin and “ Good-by, Rabbit,” to Amy’s 
Good-by, Mr. Green.” 

Duke tried to follow, but, being commanded to go 
home, stood under the Strongs’ elms looking wistfully 
after his little friend. When Professor Strong re- 
turned that night, and sat alone on his deserted porch 
where usually there was so much lively company, 
Duke came over and lay down close beside him, as if 
saying, — 

We will keep each other company.” 

Professor Strong could not leave home yet, but 
expected to join his family on the island a few weeks 
later. 

When, on board the sleeping car Ariel,” Amy 
kissed her father good-by, she said, — 

Oh, papa, only think, we shall be on the island 
to-morrow ! It does n’t seem possible it can be so 
near.” 

Yes, if all goes well, you will reach Plymouth 
about six o’clock to-morrow afternoon,” said her 
father, smiling at the enthusiastic face of his little 
girl, all beaming with joyful anticipations. But I 
must go now. Good-by, Amy. Be a good girl, and 
don’t give your mother any trouble.” 

“ Amy is always a nice little traveller,” said Mrs. 
Strong. “ I want no better travelling companion.” 

While Mrs. Strong’s parents were living, she had 
gone east every summer, and Amy, having been her 
companion from baby-hood, was quite an experienced 
traveller, and always entertaining company. She 


141 


Groing Away, 

never found the journey tiresome, for she had many 
devices to pass away the time. 

This section is our little house, she said, as the 
train, now well under weigh, sped along the banks of 
Mill Creek. ^^We can do what we like here. I 
know Violet is too warm in her gray travelling dress. 
I am going to put on her white dress for the middle 
of the day.” 

This change was made from the resources of the 
little travelling-bag, much to the admiration of two 
children in the section opposite, a girl and boy about 
Amy’s age, who watched her doings with interest. 
Violet was then held up to the window to admire the 
scenery. But as the train was now dashing through 
the rich but level farming lands of Ohio, varied only 
by stretches of woods, an occasional farmhouse, or a 
straggling village, the scenery was monotonous, and 
Amy soon announced, — 

“ Violet is tired and sleepy, she was up so early this 
morning. She must take a nap. And I ’m hungry, 
mamma.” 

“ What, already ? ” said her mother, smiling, as she 
laid down her magazine, but not surprised, for Amy, 
in her excitement, had eaten almost no breakfast, 
and Mrs. Strong was prepared for this emergency. 

Not only was Amy really hungry, but she always 
enjoyed having the little table put in, as it made 
the housekeeping in their section-house seem more 
real. When the porter had brought the table, she 
took great pleasure in setting it with the luxuries of 
the lunch-basket. No sooner did the children oppo- 
site see these preparations, than the pangs of hunger 
seized upon them too, and their mother’s lunch-basket 


142 A Jolly Good Summer, 

had to come forth. After Amy had finished her 
luncheon the table was left at her request, and she 
took her block and pencil and drew on it a long time. 
Even the conductor stopped and looked over her 
shoulder to see what so absorbed the little girl with 
the golden hair and the bright, shy blue eyes, and 
smiled as he went on. Amy was drawing a scene at 
a dance which Ernestine, the heroine of the story 
she was imagining, was then attending. The dance 
was proceeding with great vigor, and the positions of 
the legs of the gentlemen engaged in the waltz, and 
the angles at which the tails of their dress-coats 
swung out, were certainly funny. From time to time 
the exciting parts of this story were recounted to her 
mother. 

'^See, mamma,’^ she said, showing Ernestine with 
a crown blazing with jewels on her head seated at a 
table writing, while liveried menials bowed to the 
earth around her. Ernestine has married the King 
of Servia, and now she is writing to ask her poor old 
grandmother who brought her up to come and visit 
her. She is so kind and good ; not a bit proud, if she 
has become a queen. This is the letter.” 

‘‘ Dear Grandma, — I now write to you as the Queen of 
Servia ! Please come and visit me and bring as many people 
as you want to the palace, which is lovely. 

Your affectionate granddaughter, 

The Queen of Servia I 

I guess her Grandmother Lawton will be surprised 
when she gets that letter,” said Amy, proceeding now 
to draw the adventures of the young princes and prin- 
cesses, children of the Queen. Amy’s tales were like 


Going Away, 143 

real life in that there was no end to them. They 
went on and on indefinitely. 

The children opposite, who had nothing with which 
to amuse themselves, and were twisting about un- 
easily, their chief pleasure consisting in running out 
to wash their hands or get a drink, wondered what 
Amy was doing, and would have been glad to make 
her acquaintance, but the shy Amy shrank within her- 
self, and did not meet their advances. Nor did she 
say anything to the little boy in the section behind 
hers who stood up on his seat and hung over her 
shoulder, watching the adventures of Queen Ernes- 
tine and her descendants with breathless interest. 
She pretended not to see him, although she was care- 
ful to hold her block so he could see. 

To travel along in this world of romance, where 
fairies, princes, and enchanters were mere every-day 
folks, was very pleasant to Mrs. Strong. Amy’s 
pretty fancies threw a charm over actual life, which 
is sometimes rather prosy. When Amy was tired of 
drawing, she read in one of her favorite books, Hans 
Christian Andersen’s tales, having a paper-covered 
copy, easy to carry. Then she and her mother had 
luncheon again. 

It was now noon, the day very warm, the sun beat- 
ing in at their windows. Mrs. Strong drew down the 
curtains, had the porter bring a pillow, and Amy was 
quite willing to play it was night and lie down. Soon, 
lulled by the steady motion and roar of the train, she 
fell fast asleep and had a long nap, from which she 
wakened, bright and refreshed. As the afternoon 
wore on, her shyness gradually wore away too, and 
finally she became acquainted with Helen and Jimmie, 


144 A Jolly Good Summer. 

the children opposite. Jimmie, who was frisking 
uneasily about, stood in the aisle, braced his hands on 
the arms of the seats, and tried to see how high in 
the air he could swing his feet. He went a little too 
high, lost his hold, and fell his whole length in the 
aisle. Amy could not help laughing at this, espe- 
cially as Jimmie, who seemed very good-natured, with 
a friendly smile to Amy as he picked himself up and 
brushed the dust off his stockings, said, — 

I was a little too smart that time, was n’t I ? ” 
Jimmie is always trying to turn somersaults, or 
stand on his head, or do some performance,” said 
Helen. 

I ’m going to belong to the gymnasium as soon as 
I am big enough,” said Jimmie, Father says I may. 
So I have to keep practising. Were you drawing 
pictures this morning ? May I see them ? ” 

Helen and Jimmie came into Amy’s section, and 
Amy not only showed them her morning’s drawings, 
but drew for them the Adventures of an Apple Pie,” 
and then the startling incidents in the life of Johnny 
Jackdaw. 

‘‘Johnnie is just like Jimmie,” said Helen, after 
they had laughed at Johnnie stealing a ride on a 
donkey and being kicked off, going out in a canoe and 
tipping over, his two feet sticking straight up out of 
the pond, having the mumps, stepping on a wasp’s 
nest, and finally tickling the bald head of his old 
grandfather asleep in his easy-chair, and getting 
soundly whipped for it. “You’re always doing 
things like those, Jimmie.” 

“Boys are not girls,” said Jimmie, rather con- 
temptuously. 


145 


Going Away, 

Helen held Violet and admired her while Amy 
drew. Then they told each other riddles. So the 
afternoon, long, hot, and dusty though it was, passed 
pleasantly away. The sun sank low, and the porter 
left the front door open, letting the cool air from 
Lake Erie sweep refreshingly through the heated 
car. But what most revived every one was the putting 
on of the dining-car, and the welcome sound of the 
head waiter’s voice, as he passed through the car, 
calling, — 

^‘Dinner all ready in the dining-car, last car in 
the rear. First call to dinner in the dining-car!” 

People who had been living all day from their 
lunch-baskets welcomed this chance of getting a warm 
dinner. Amy thought it delightful to sit eating as 
they glided along amid a pleasant landscape, the 
whole western sky glowing red with the last glories 
of the sinking sun, and ate more dinner than she had 
for weeks. 

All the children in the sleeping-car were ready, 
not to say anxious, to retire soon after dark, impa- 
tient to try their novel beds. Jimmie in particular 
was overcome with sleep, according to his own 
statements. 

I ’m so sleepy, mamma,” he said ; can^t the 
porter make my bed now?” 

His roguish black eyes looked far from sleepy. 
However, his mother at last yielded to his entreaties, 
and asked the porter to make up her berths. Jimmie 
was to occupy the upper berth. No sooner was it 
ready than he plunged head foremost behind the cur- 
tains. But this disappearance was only temporary, 
for soon Amy saw him pop up like a Jack in a box, 
10 


146 A Jolly Good Summer. 

laughing at her over the curtains of the upper berth. 
Then he popped his head out between the curtains, 
making up funny faces. Then he turned a somersault 
in his berth, his feet waving aloft near the car’s roof. 
He was here, there, everywhere. There was no 
knowing where he would appear next. Amy was 
greatly entertained. 

‘‘Jimmie is as good as a circus,” she said to Helen, 
who was divided between laughing at Jimmie’s tricks, 
which she could n’t help, and a feeling of responsibil- 
ity for him as his older sister, which made her say to 
her mother, — 

“Mamma, I should think you would make Jimmie 
behave.” 

Even the porter, who was quite hardened to boys, 
laughed at Jimmie’s pranks, and the tired, warm, 
grown-up passengers, to whom both sleeping-cars and 
life itself had ceased to be the delightful novelty they 
were to Jimmie, forgot their fatigue as they smiled at 
the little boy’s capers. 

Amy, meantime, had undressed Violet, and put on 
her night-gown. Mrs. Strong had the mattress from 
the upper berth laid on the lower, and the upper berth 
closed up, so they had quite an airy bedroom, that is, 
for a sleeping-car. Amy felt very cosy and safe as 
she nestled down behind her mother, and whispered 
her prayers into her ear, — prayers that seemed to 
have a new, real meaning as the train, with screaming 
whistle, rushed and roared on through the darkness. 

The tired little girl was soon fast asleep. Once in 
the night she was wakened b}'’ the stopping of the 
train, and loud voices. Lifting the curtain and peep- 
ing out, she found they were in a large station, about 


147 


Going Away, 

whose deserted spaces a few people hurried to and 
fro with echoing footsteps in the bright gas-light. 
This momentary glimpse into a strange world was 
fascinating to Amy’s imagination. Soon the train 
plunged on into the outer darkness, and Amy fell 
asleep again, but when her mother wakened in the 
morning, there was the little figure up on its elbow, 
nothing visible of Amy’s head but the long yellow 
braid hanging below the curtain. 

Oh, mamma,” said Amy, “ I hope I did not waken 
you. I do so love to look out of the car window, and 
not know where I am, and see strange people and 
places gliding by, just like a picture. The sun’s up, 
and it looks very warm. Only think, we shall be on 
the island to-day ! I can hardly believe it.” 

In spite of all Amy’s devices for amusing herself, 
and of the picturesque scenery of Massachusetts 
through which they were travelling, it seemed a long 
day before they reached Boston, although it was only 
three o’clock. Here Amy parted with Helen and 
Jimmie, who were going to Swampscott. They now 
seemed like old friends. As their home was in Louis- 
ville, Amy felt that perhaps she should never see 
them again ; but Jimmie said, — 

“ I have an uncle in Cincinnati. When I go up to 
visit him, I shall come to see you, Amy.” 

“ So shall I,” said Helen. 

I do hope you will come sometime,” said Amy. 

I will show you all my dolls and my chickens, and 
take your pictures, and introduce you to all my 
friends, and we will have a beautiful time.” 

In the Boston station almost the first person they 
saw was Sydney, delighted to meet again his mother 


148 A Jolly Good Summer, 

and little sister. Great news did Sydney have for 
them. 

Faith and the babies are both down at the island 
for a few days, and I am going down with you now. 
I shall go down every night while my family are 
there.’’ 

Then I shall see my nieces ! ” exclaimed Amy in 
rapture. ^^And have the island, and the boats, and 
everything ! Oh-h-h ! ” 


The Island, 


149 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE ISLAND. 

P LYMOUTH was reached in the early evening, 
and they started for the island in an open car- 
riage. Quiet Plymouth village, with its old houses 
and streets shaded by ancient elms, seemed a charm- 
ing place to these weary pilgrims from the west, who 
had been for nearly two days in the heat and cinders 
of the noisy train. Amy, who had studied United 
States history a little, and who had read or been read 
to all her life, knew well the story of the Pilgrim 
Fathers, and looked with deep interest on Leyden 
Street, and up the Town Square to Burial Hill, as 
Sydney pointed out to her these points associated so 
familiarly with the daily life of the Pilgrims. 

Soon the village was left behind, and the carriage, 
turning from the main road, entered the woods. As 
they drove on, they met not a person. All around 
were the dark woods, in whose dusky solitudes, per- 
chance, wild animals and Indians might still linger. 
At least, so thought Amy as she nestled closer to her 
mother, saying in a tone of awe, — 

How still it is ! There ! I heard a rustle in the 
leaves ! 

Nothing very dangerous, Amy,” said Sydney. 
Nothing worse than an owl or a musk-rat.” 


150 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


At last they met some one, a picturesque figure 
striding along, a- tall colored woman of erect, vigorous 
form, around whose head was wound a bright ban- 
danna. This quaint, foreign-looking figure encountered 
in the dusky depths of Plymouth woods did not sur- 
prise Amy. Anything might be possible in this land 
of enchantment. It was a prosaic downfall of her 
romantic fancies when Sydney said, — 

“ How d ’ye do, Chloe ? ” and then added, as Chloe 
passed with a bright smile that showed her white 
teeth, — 

That is Chloe, our cook. There is a circus in 
Plymouth to-night, and she is going up to spend the 
night with a friend. She ’s a capital cook.” 

The woods grew darker and more dense as they 
drove on, and they felt more and more solitary and 
remote from the world. By and by, in the light of 
the full moon just rising, they caught glimpses of a 
sheet of water to the left through the trees. 

^^That is Billington Sea,” said Sydney. We are 
almost there now.” 

Soon they came out into an open space on a height 
looking down on the pond. The full moon, low in 
the east, sent a long trail of light across the water. 
There lay the dark island, whence twinkled friendly 
lights through the trees. Across the water shot a 
small skiff, the plash of the oars heard distinctly in 
the all-pervading stillness, the driver having put their 
trunks on the ground and departed. 

“Philip is rowing over for us,” said Sydney. 
“They heard our voices, no doubt, and the wheels, 
as we came through the woods.” 

The boat grated on the sandy beach, and Philip, 


The Island. 151 

holding its prow with one hand, greeted his mother 
and Amy most affectionately, saying, — 

Jump in, Amy. Go doWn to the little seat in the 
stern. You h-e only a feather, you ^11 not count.’’ 

Amy, giggling nervously from joy and excitement, 
climbed in, and was surprised to find how a boat 
wabbles about when you try to walk in it. 

“But our trunks, Philip,” said Mrs. Strong, who 
could not at once rid herself of the habits of civiliza- 
tion. “ What shall we do with them ? ” 

“ I ’ll row over for them after supper,” said Philip. 

“ But is it safe to leave them here alone ? ” queried 
Mrs. Strong. 

“Perfectly. There is no one to molest them.” 

So the trunks with all their precious contents were 
left alone in the dark and the woods. What the 
owls, the crickets, the squirrels, and beetles thought 
of these strange intruders in their domain will never 
be known. 

The boat, impelled by the strong arms of Sydney 
and Philip, shot off across the water. Amy thought 
it perfect bliss as she lay back in the stern trailing her 
hand in the water, and feeling the cool, sweet evening 
breeze blow over her bare head. 

As they made towards a little pier, several forms 
were seen on it, and there was the wild barking of a 
small dog, with commands, “Be still, Betty,” in 
Gladys’s familiar voice. 

When the tired travellers landed, great was the 
excitement and warm the welcome from Gladys and 
her sister Sue, to say nothing of her pug-dog, Betty. 
But, best of all, here was Faith holding in her arms 
sweet little Madge clad only in her night-dress. She 


152 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

had calmly refused to go to sleep at her usual hour, 
apparently suspecting that something unusual was to 
occur, and determined to be in the midst of it. 

Papa’s naughty little girl,’’ Sydney called her, as 
he took her from her mother. Madge clasped his 
neck with her little arms, and nestled her curly head 
down on his shoulder, not at all afraid of his severity. 
Sometimes she lifted her head and peeped shyly at 
Amy, then hid her eyes quickly again when she found 
that she was observed. 

^‘What a dear, sweet little thing!” said admiring 
Aunt Amy. 

After supper, they sat a while on the porch in the 
moonlight, talking after the wont of friends that have 
been long separated. Then Mrs. Strong said, — 

^‘We cannot talk everything over to-night if we 
try. Luckily, we have a good many weeks before us. 
So I think we tired travellers should go to bed, 
especially Amy.” 

The cottage was really two cottages, connected by 
a wide covered porch. Mrs. Strong and Amy had to 
cross this porch and go through the dining-room, to 
reach the stairs leading 'to their room above. Tired 
and sleepy as Amy was, she could not help expressing 
her delight at the novelty of her surroundings. 

How still it is,” she said, and how strange it 
seems not to hear a sound but the frogs and the whip- 
poorwills, and the wind in the pines. I keep expect- 
ing to hear wheels going by, or a horse trotting. I 
can’t realize that I am really on an island. How far 
away Hillside Avenue seems, does n’t it, mamma ? 
It seems like a far away dream. I wonder what papa 
is doing. Thinking about us, I guess.” 


The Island, 


153 


“ Don^t talk any more now, Amy,” said her mother, 
who was unpacking a few necessities from the trunks. 
‘‘ Lie still and go to sleep so you will wake up bright 
and fresh to-morrow, ready to enjoy it all.” 

Amy tried to obey. She lay looking at the queer 
bare rafters (for the cottage was unplastered), sloping 
down so close to her head, her mind in such a whirl 
of happy anticipation that it was not easy to go to 
sleep. Her mother put out the kerosene lamp and 
got into bed. Through the wide open window the 
moonlight fell in a white square on the bare floor. 
“Whip-poor-will,” “Whip-poor will,” came from the 
trees all around, mingled with the “ Boom, Boom,” of 
the frogs. 

“ The frogs say, ‘ Go home,’ ‘ Go home,’ mamma,” 
said Amy, when her mother thought her fast asleep. 

“ Don’t talk, Amy,” said her mother drowsily. 

Soori the air, so cool, sweet, and pure, soothed even 
Amy to sleep, and the next thing she knew the sun 
was shining in at their window instead of the moon, 
and Chloe, who had arrived early, was rattling pots 
and pans about in the kitchen below, as she sang, 

“ Swing low, sweet chariot.” 

Not only was Chloe singing in the kitchen, but 
from every tree resounded cries of “ Phebe ! Phebe ! ” 
and the trills and runs of robins and bluebirds in- 
numerable. Amy sprang out of bed and ran to the 
window. 

“I think it is so interesting to look out in the 
morning and see what kind of a place you are in, 
when you came in the night,” she said. “ Oh, is n’t 
it beautiful here ? ” she exclaimed, as she looked out 


154 A Jolly Crood Summer. 

on the shining waters of the pond gleaming through 
the trees. 

Yes, it is a most beautiful spoV^ said her mother. 

But you must hurry and dress now, or you will be 
late to breakfast.’’ 

Amy hastily donned the blue sailor suit which was 
to be her working costume, and ran down stairs, eager 
to investigate this new world into which she had 
come in the darkness. On the porch she found 
little Madge and Kuth with tiny wrappers on over 
their night-dresses, making an early breakfast at a 
little table set in the space between the cottages. 
Katie, their nurse, was in attendance on the two little 
ladies. 

‘^What a pleasant breakfast-room you have,” said 
Amy, as she sat_ down on the floor, to begin a closer 
acquaintance with her small nieces. 

Madge was three, baby Kuth only two years old. 
They were as round and rosy and well as two chil- 
dren could be. Although a trifle shy at first of this 
new aunt whom they had never seen, Amy’s wiles 
soon won their hearts, and they all had a merry game 
of romps together, running around and around the 
two cottages on the wide porch, until the grown-up 
people’s breakfast was ready. 

‘‘ I feel almost as if I were on shipboard,” said 
Mrs. Strong after breakfast, as they sat on the wide 
railing of the porch. 

“We are almost as isolated as if we were,” said 
Gladys. “ That is the charm of the place ; the feel- 
ing of perfect independence. We can wear old clothes 
and do as we please, and no one can come near us 
unless we choose to row over and bring them.” 


The Island. 


155 


<< Why, can you row, Gladys ? ’’ asked Amy. 

Yes indeed I can, and so can Sue.’’ 

I will soon teach you to row, Amy,” said Philip. 

Oh, will you, Philip ? How perfectly lovely ! ” 
said the delighted Amy. But now Sue wanted to 
take her to explore the island. 

Sue was about sixteen, a young girl of fresh, un- 
spoiled nature who made a congenial companion for 
Amy, and they chatted away like old acquaintances 
as they climbed up and down the rocky woodland 
paths, slippery with pine needles. 

The island contained nearly three acres covered 
with woods, chiefly oaks, pines and hemlocks, with a 
few walnuts. The gnarled branches of the trees, and 
their twisted, broken tops showed the severity of the 
storms that swept over the island in winter. Even 
in summer there was almost always a breeze, cooled 
by blowing across the pond, and sweet with the fra- 
grance of pines and ferns. 

This pond is five or six miles around,” said Sue. 

I should call it a lake rather than a pond,” said 
Amy. 

I suppose it would be a lake anywhere but in Ply- 
mouth,” said Sue. Chloe says there are three hun- 
dred and sixty-five ponds, big and little in Plymouth, 
one for each day in the year.” 

Oh, how pleasant these seats are,” said Amy, as 
they came out on the point of the island farthest 
from the cottage. 

Philip, who had a genius for carpentry, had nailed 
boards across three gnarled, bent trees that hung off 
over the bank. He had made foot-rests and backs 
to these seats, so here one could sit cosily, overhang- 


156 A Jolly Qood Summer, 

ing a sandy beach where the pond lapped gently 
below. 

^‘We call this Breeze Point/’ said Sue, ‘^because 
there is always a breeze here when nowhere else.” 

“ I shall come here often to read,” said Amy. 

“You must see the pine grove,” said Sue. “We 
call that our out-door parlor, and Philip has put up 
a delightful swing there.” 

The pine grove was in the very heart of the island. 
The girls pushed through the tangle of underbrush, 
and came out into a clear open space where stood 
around majestic old pines, their tall, straight trunks 
bearing the green tops high in the air. They swayed 
and sighed solemnly, seeming to murmur a tale of 
bygone joys that made one half sad to hear, one knew 
not why. Here also Philip had put convenient seats, 
and between two of the pines that seemed arranged 
expressly for the purpose he had placed a swing. 

Of course Amy was enchanted with all this, so 
suited to her tastes. Sue swung her high up among 
the tree tops, the fresh, pine-scented breeze blowing 
her hair out like so much spun sunshine, and tinting 
her cheeks a delicate pink. 

“ I feel like a bird,” she said joyously. “ Here I 
go up, up, up ; here I come down, down, downy.” 

Prom the direction of the house suddenly rang out 
a peculiar call. 

“ Walla-walla- walla-?/;<xA-hoo ! ” rang out a melodi- 
ous voice. 

“ What ’s that ? ” asked Amy. 

“That’s our signal when we want each other,” 
said Sue. “Philip says it is the war whoop of the 
aborigines of this island. We find it very convenient 


The Island. 


157 


when we are scattered about in the woods. I pre- 
sume they are going somewhere, and want us to 
come.’’ 

Walla- walla-walla-?^aA-hoo ! ” came the call again 
in two voices, harmonized to a fine chord. 

Sue answered in the same fashion, and Amy began 
at once to practise this necessary accomplishment, 
and soon could walla ” equal to Sue herself. 

Near the cottage they met Katie the nurse, with 
Madge and Kuth each carrying a tiny basket. Katie 
was taking them to the pine-grove parlor to play 
until nap time, and in the little baskets they would 
bring home pine-cones and other woodland treasures 
to mamma. 

They looked very cunning, Amy thought, in their 
pink sun-hats, and she stopped to kiss them good-by, 
while Sue asked, — 

Where are the people, Katie ? ” 

‘^Down on the-’^harf, I think,” said Katie. 

The girls ran down the steps to the wharf, where 
they found all their party about embarking in boats. 

We are going down the Town Brook for pond 
lilies,” said Philip, and thought perhaps you would 
like to go with us.” 

“ Pond lilies I Of course we want to go. Which 
boat shall I get in, Philip ? ” asked Amy, eagerly. 

Gladys and I will row mother in the canoe, and 
Sue and Faith will row you in the yellow boat. You 
must sit very still in a boat, you know, Amy. You 
can’t jump around in a boat that way unless you want 
a bath.” 

Faith and Sue, who kept time perfectly in rowing, 
pulled strongly away, bidding Philip a laughing adieu 


158 


A Jolly Grood Summer. 

as they left him behind. Amy, seated in state in the 
bow, announced, — 

am Undine, the water spirit, being rowed by 
some of my slaves. But I would much rather row 
myself, even than to be so queenly.” 

will teach you how when we go home,” said 
Faith. “ It ’s very easy. I want to keep ahead of 
Philip now.” 

“ Do see Betty,” said Amy. How saucy her little 
black nose looks sticking up over the edge of the 
canoe.” 

For Philip had another passenger of importance in 
the person of Gladys’s pug, Bettina Puggins, or Betty, 
as she was usually known among her familiar friends. 
Betty always seemed to consider pleasure excursions 
as arranged expressly on her account, and insisted 
on being taken along. She sat proudly up in the 
prow as the canoe glided swiftly through the water, 
evidently feeling herself in charge of the whole 
expedition. 

The outlet of Billington Sea is a beautiful brook, 
called the Town Brook ” from the time of the earli- 
est settlement. It is ^^the very sweet brook that 
runs under a hillside” mentioned in their earliest 
writings, whose discovery decided the storm-tossed, 
weary Pilgrims to disembark and settle on the spot 
which is now Plymouth. Sweet indeed must its clear 
water have tasted to them, after their long confine- 
ment on shipboard. Its waters are a clear amber as 
they glide over the sand, but dark brown in the deep, 
still pools that reflect every overhanging bush and 
flower as in a mirror. 

The girls entered the Town Brook, and paddled 


The Island. 


159 


along its winding current, exclaiming in delight at 
the pink sweet-brier roses against which they brushed 
as they paddled down stream. The brook had a deep, 
strong current, ample to float the boat, but its course 
was narrow and winding. Steering required skilful 
management, as the girls soon learned. In trying to 
round a sudden bend, their prow stuck fast on an un- 
seen tree-root projecting from the bank. In vain did 
they push and pull ; they could not get off. Some- 
times they succeeded in freeing themselves, only to 
have the current swing them around upon the snag 
again. 

“ There is no help for it,” said Faith, stopping to 
take breath. “We shall simply have to wait until the 
canoe overtakes us.” 

When Philip came up, he could not resist laughing 
a little at the pride which had had such a fall. He 
threw a rope over to them, which Amy held fast. 
Then he and the girls pulled at the oars, and Gladys 
at the rope, and Betty stood up with her paws on the 
edge of the canoe and barked loudly, and so, by “a 
long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull altogether ” 
they were afloat again. 

Philip took the lead now, as being more familiar 
with the windings of the stream, and convoyed them 
safely to a pond made by a dam thrown across the brook. 
In the shallow edges of this pond, they found white 
pond lilies abundant, Amy, who loved every flower 
that grew, gathering not only many of these, but also 
all the sweet-brier roses she could carry. 

On the shore they fell into conversation with an old 
gentleman who seemed disposed to be most cordial. 
Amy regarded with interest his gray hair, which was 


160 A Jolly Crood Summer. 

braided in many little pigtails, each tied separately. 
It appeared that in his youth he had been a sailor, 
sailing on distant seas, and visiting many foreign 
lands. In his old age he was contented to give up 
a life of adventure and settle down quietly on shore 
in the tamer business of taking charge of this pond, 
whose reservoir fed several mills farther down stream. 
He seemed a quaint character, proper to meet on 
the shores of Plymouth’s Town Brook, where you 
do not look for common-place folk, and if he pre- 
ferred to braid his hair in pigtails, that was his own 
affair. 

When the lily party reached home, while the others 
beautified the parlor with the flowers, trophies of 
wood and stream, Philip gave Amy a rowing lesson. 
She made such progress, that when, toward noon, Mrs. 
Strong went down to look for her, she was startled to 
find her alone in the yellow boat, paddling about in 
the cove near the wharf. 

Why, Amy Strong ! ” was all she could say. 

Only see me, mamma,” said Amy, looking brightly 
up, her face, under the brown hat tipped so jauntily 
on the flowing hair, radiant with perfect satisfaction 
and flushed with exercise, I can row all by myself. 
Philip says I learn very easily. J ust see me.” 

Amy put on a great spurt and ran herself ashore. 

“Ah, I didn’t mean to do that. I can’t always 
manage. The boat will turn around, when I want to 
go straight ahead. But I can push off again.” 

“Ho, come ashore now,” said her mother. “You 
have rowed quite enough for the first time. I ’ll help 
you tie the boat.” 

When Amy had been on the porch long enough to 


The Island. 


161 


have the flush of her success subside, she found her- 
self so tired with her unusually vigorous exercise that 
she was well contented to pass the afternoon reading 
at Breeze Point. Late in the afternoon, she heard 
Philip call from near the cottage, 

Walla-walla-walla-2^?aA-hoo, Amy,’’ and ran up to 
see what he wanted. 

She found that he had called her to try a new seat 
which he had been making expressly for her. He 
had taken an old cane seat rocking-chair that he had 
found discarded in the cellar, cut off the legs, and 
nailed the rest firmly up in a tree whose branches 
shot out over the pond. 

“ It ’s rather high up,” said Philip, but I know 
you are a great climber. Try it, and see how it goes.” 

“ I love to be high up in the trees, and I love to 
climb,” said Amy, as she scrambled nimbly up into 
the new seat, and lay back in it with great satisfac- 
tion. It is lovely, Philip ; exactly what I wanted, 
and I am so much obliged to you for thinking of it. 
I shall call it ‘ The Perch.’ ” 

Philip smiled, pleased that he had added to the 
happiness of his happy little sister, looking back as 
he walked to the cottage at the small blue-robed figure 
with the golden hair, high up in the tree, like a new 
species of bird. Many happy hours did Amy pass in 
the Perch, reading or drawing pictures of her pretty 
fancies, while the birds sang around her unafraid, the 
wavelets lapped gently beneath her, the green leaves 
rustled with cool murmurs, and through them shone 
the sparkling water. 

That evening, when Sydney came down from 
Boston, bringing them the news from the great out- 


162 A Jolly Good Summer. 

side world wliose existence they had almost forgotten, 
they decided to go out rowing. It was an unusually 
warm evening for the island, but, when the islanders 
spoke of the heat, Sydney said, — 

“ You really don’t know anything about heat down 
here. It- has been absolutely torrid in Boston to-day ; 
the hottest day of the season.” 

“ I found no trouble in keeping warm, rowing in 
the sun,” said Philip. 

‘^The babies feel the heat to-night,” said Faith. 
“ They are very restless, and Katie says they will not 
go to sleep.” 

“We’ll take them out on the water for a while, 
then,” said Sydney. “It will cool and quiet them, 
and their room will be cooler too, later.” 

“ Do you think it will be quite safe ? ” asked 
Grandma Strong. “If they should be restless, and 
tip the boat — ” 

“ Perfectly,” said Sydney. “ They are quite old salts. 
You will see, mother, that they know enough to obey 
the captain’s orders when they are on a cruise.” 

It took some time to settle the embarking of so 
large a company. Philip and Gladys went in the 
yellow boat, taking Betty with them. Amy was 
ambitious to row the green boat with Sue, so Mrs. 
Strong at once decided to cast her lot in with that 
craft, thinking, 

“ If Amy goes to the bottom, I may as well go with 
her.” 

Sydney took his wife and the two culprits who 
were being rewarded so agreeably for their sleepless- 
ness in the canoe. Both were in their night-gowns. 
Faith’s serene, strong face looked a true Madonna’s 


The Island. 


163 


as she sat tenderly holding little Ruth as still as a 
mouse ” in her lap, while Madge, as quiet as another 
tiny white mouse, nestled between her mother^s feet. 
Very cunning did the two curly heads look gliding 
along, as Sydney’s strong arms shot the canoe with 
its precious load through the rippling water towards 
the upper end of the pond, where Philip had already 
preceded them. 

The green boat made an uncertain progress in the 
rear. Every now and then, Amy, in her too great 
zeal, ‘^caught a crab,” tipping herself over on the 
boat, whereat there was much laughter from her and 
Sue, and rather anxious smiles from Mrs. Strong, who 
sat carefully, as if balancing the boat. Finally the 
green boat joined the others. Then, with suspended, 
dripping oars, the whole flotilla floated idly down 
with the current that bore gently towards the 
outlet. 

The pond was entirely surrounded with woods. 
There are many acres of woodland in Plymouth still 
as primitive as when the Pilgrims first landed. In a 
few places scattered along the shore were rude huts 
or duck-stands, built for the use of hunters and 
fishers, but otherwise all was unbroken wilderness. 

The woods lay dark and still beneath the glowing 
western sky, whose bright colors were reflected in 
broken, glinting fragments in the dancing waves that 
a delightful evening breeze sent rippling over the 
pond. Happily did our friends float along in the 
sunset glory, breathing the fresh breath of the woods. 
They did not sing, as usual when on the water in the 
evening, because it was observed that the curly heads 
were nodding like flowers on their stems, and that 


164 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

the bright eyes were fast closing, quite against their 
small owners’ will. 

As the western radiance faded into sober gray, the 
moon rose, large and majestic, sending a trail of sil- 
very brightness across the dark water. But the 
woods and island lay black, gloomy, impressive. 
There was something mysterious in the pale, uncer- 
tain light, something solitary and lonely in the 
mournful notes of the whippoorwill, the call of an 
owl from the woods, the persistent boom, boom, of 
the frogs, the only sounds breaking the intense still- 
ness. It was easy to imagine Indians still lurking in 
the black woods, and when Sydney and Faith landed, 
each bearing a precious sleepy head up to bed, Amy 
said, in a tone almost of awe, 

‘‘ I think we had best keep close to Philip, Sue.” 


Life in the Wildwood. 


165 


CHAPTER XII. 


LIFE IN THE WILDWOOD 


HE excitement of the next morning for Amy was 



seeing the babies take their daily bath in the 
pond. The cottage not having all the modern con- 
veniences, being, in fact, only a sort of camp in the 
wilderness, the pond was found to furnish an excel- 
lent substitute for a bath-tub. Sydney was up at 
five every morning to take a swim before breakfast, 
and the rest of the party donned bathing dresses and 
went into the water whenever they felt inclined. Of 
course, Undine^s health was found to require frequent 
baths, and she and the china dolls were often in the 


pond. 


The babies were taken down to a sandy, sloping 
beach near Breeze Point, shaded from the sun by an 
overhanging walnut. Never was there a prettier 
sight than these two cherubs in the water. They 
might have come right out of one of RaphaeTs 
pictures. Their curls were pinned up in Grecian 
knots on top of their heads, whence they escaped 
rebelliously in all sorts of pretty loops and tangles. 
Their dimpled, plump forms glistened in the water 
as they paddled happily about, as innocent and 
unconscious as two ducks. Indeed, Amy called 
them, — 


166 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

You two dear little ducks ! ” 

Madge, seeing some yellow pond-lilies, waded to 
them, tugged stoutly at the long slimy stem until it 
broke, and brought the flower in triumph to Aunt 
Amy, sitting on the sand. Then little imitator Euth 
must do the same. At last came the sad moment 
when they must come out of their huge bath-tub, have 
their backs splashed by Katie, and be swallowed up 
in the folds of their big bath towels. 

Amy had on her bathing suit, her hair was braided 
tightly, and she was barefooted. 

“ Why, did n’t you go in with the children, Amy? ’’ 
asked Faith. 

Oh, I ’m not going to take a bath now,” said Amy. 

I ’m going to build a castle down here, and I dressed 
myself so I could wade about and work as I please.” 

After every one had gone, Amy had a happy 
time all by herself. With a strip of board for shovel 
she dug a canal which let the water in around the 
spot chosen for her castle. She worked hard, digging 
and tugging stones and dead tree-branches to build 
her castle, wading about, perfectly happy in her world 
of fancy, and her sense of freedom. 

By and by she was startled by the plash of oars. 
Starting up, prepared to fly into the woods like a 
frightened fawn, she saw Gladys and Philip in the 
canoe. They had been fishing in the Cove. 

Oh, here you are,” said Philip. Did you know 
it was dinner time ? ” 

Oh, dear, is it ? ” said Amy. It does n’t seem 
possible. I hate to leave my castle, when it ’s almost 
done. Isn’t it nice, Philip? It is called Castle 
Dangerous because it is going to be impossible for any 


167 


Life in the Wildwood* 

enemy to capture it. You see it is very strong, and 
then it stands up on a hill. I made that hill myself. 
Then it has a deep moat all around it, and I ’ve made 
a real drawbridge over it. Is nT it nice ? ’’ 

“ Yes, it’s a fine castle,” said Philip, smiling as he 
looked at the childish structure of sand and stones in 
which Amy’s imagination saw a stronghold of the 
Middle Ages. It makes me think of Ivanhoe.” 

Does n’t it ? ” said Amy, delighted. “ I meant it 
for one of those castles.” 

J ump in and we ’ll take you around to the wharf,” 
said Gladys. 

Amy waded out to the canoe, but when she saw the 
perch Philip had caught on the bottom of the boat, 
she declined emphatically to get in. 

Philip ! ” she said reproachfully, I don’t see how 
you could be so cruel.” 

How can we have fried perch for supper if I don’t 
catch fish ? ” asked Philip. 

“ I would n’t eat one of those poor little fish for 
anything,” said Amy, as she started to walk home 
across the island. 

After dinner Amy was surprised to see Gladys 
come out on the porch bearing Betty in her arms, 
Betty’s head being tied up in a handkerchief. 

Betty feels the heat so,” said Gladys. “ She has 
a sick headache. I ’ve just been putting witch-hazel 
on her head.” 

Why, how do you know her head aches ? ” asked 
Amy. 

Her nose is dry, and her head hot, and I am 
sure her head must ache.” 

Betty’s black mug and soft dark eyes looking out 


168 A Jolly Good Summer. 

from the folds of the embroidered handkerchief were so 
funny that every one laughed at her, and Amy said, — 

‘ ^^She looks exactly like a little old woman.’’ 

Betty did not appreciate her mistress’s kind atten- 
tions. She looked much ashamed, and, as soon as 
released, fled under the parlor sofa, soon appearing 
minus her bandages. 

The afternoon was so very warm that Amy was 
glad to keep quiet, and took refuge in the Perch. 

Here she amused herself by writing a story, called 

Mabel’s Adventure : — ” 

Mabel was a very good little girl, except some- 
times when she was not so good. She lived in the 
country with her grandmother and grandfather. 

Once in a while she was discontented with the sim- 
ple way that her kind grandparents lived. In the sum- 
mer, Angeline Diamond came with her papa, mamma, 
and governess, to the hotel at Blackville, which was 
the village where Mabel’s home was. She was a 
great friend of Mabel’s and they always played 
together, but seeing so many rich, elegant things did 
not agree with Mabel, because they made her dis- 
contented. 

“ One day, after she had been playing with Angeline 
all the morning, she was rather cross when she came 
home to a bread and milk lunch. She even said to 
her dear grandma (and it was very naughty of her 
too, I think), 

^ Grandma, why don’t you ever have charlotte- 
russe, and oyster patties, and such nice things to eat, 
like Mrs. Diamond ? Angeline has whatever she 
wants, and does whatever she wants, and I always 
have to do whatever you say. I think I should be' 


Life in the Wildwood. 


169 


ever so much happier if I were Aiigeline. Why don’t 
you wear a black silk dress like Mrs. Diamond? ” 

But when she glanced at her grandmother and saw 
how tired and old she looked, she threw her arms 
around her, and cried, and begged her pardon. 

‘‘After lunch, still feeling unhappy, she went to the 
woods, which were her resort on such occasions, and 
began to think over her troubles, when she heard a 
voice. It was very weak and sad, Mabel thought, and 
she listened to hear what it said. 

“ ‘ I am indeed very badly off when I cannot find 
even a bug, and I don’t care for them very much any- 
way, because they tickle my children’s throats,’ said 
the first voice, for now Mabel heard two. 

“ She peered through the branches, and saw a little 
bird who was perched on a flower, talking to a stray 
cat. 

“ ‘ Well, friend,’ ” said the cat, ‘ I am as badly off as 
you, for I can find no milk, yet yonder child,’ looking 
at Mabel, ‘ is not satisfied with bread and milk too ! ’ 

“ ‘ I know it,’ said the bird. ‘ Had I but a few 
crumbs of the bread which she rejects ’ — 

“ ‘ And I but as small portion of the milk she scorns,’ 
said the cat — ’ 

“ ‘ We should both be happy,’ said both together. 

“ So they talked, while Mabel listened till she felt 
so ashamed that she never wanted any one to see 
her again.” 

Just as this story with a moral had reached this 
highly satisfactory conclusion, Amy’s attention was 
suddenly attracted from her writing by a great splash 
ing in the water below. Peeping down through the 
branches, she was surprised to see Betty in the water 


170 A Jolly Good Summer, 

up to her neck, absorbed in trying to catch a frog. 
Amy was surprised because if there was anything 
Betty cordially detested, it was a bath. Philip often 
caught her and carried her out some distance in the 
pond, letting her swim ashore, in order to give her a 
bath. In her happiest moments, one had only to say, 

Betty, come and get your bath,’’ or even, “Bath, 
Betty,” to have her tail uncurl, her ears droop, and 
Betty herself scamper away upstairs to hide under the 
bed. But now here she was in the pond of her own 
free will. 

“ Why, Betty Puggins ! ” exclaimed Amy. 

Betty instantly scampered for shore at sound of 
a voice. But often when she quietly slipped away 
from the party on the porch, the splashing of water 
told that Betty was engaged in her favorite pleasure 
of hunting frogs, or worrying a stone as an imaginary 
enemy. 

This day was the warmest the islanders had yet 
experienced. Even the breeze failed them, and. 
towards night a plague of mosquitoes descended upon 
the island. Apparently all the mosquitoes in all the 
woods about had suddenly discovered them, and 
hastened to the banquet. Amy, who was wading, 
was driven ashore by their fierce attacks on her bare 
feet and ankles. In the evening she sat in the ham- 
mock with a lap robe tightly wrapped around her 
limbs. 

“ It makes me almost cool to look at Aray,^’ said 
Sue. “ With her lap robe she suggests sleigh 
riding.” 

“ The mosquitoes persecute me the most because I 
wear short dresses, and they can get at me better,” 


Life in the Wildwood. 171 

said Amy. Please pass me the camphor bottle, 
Gladys.’’ 

Fans were industriously plied on the porch, and 
the camphor bottle circulated briskly, and yet the 
mosquitoes found unguarded spots. 

I feel like saying with Touchstone in the Forest 
of Arden, ^ When I was at home, I was in a better 
place,’ ” said Mrs. Strong. 

Here Philip came around from the kitchen. 

Chloe has a good idea,” he said. “ She is burning 
sweet fern in an old tin can, making a smudge, and 
there is n’t a mosquito in the kitchen. I ’m going to 
build a fire near the cottage, and try the virtues of a 
smudge here.” 

“ I ’ll help you, Philip,” said Amy, jumping out of 
her defences. 

Every one welcomed this happy thought of Philip, 
and hastened to help him gather a high pile of dead 
branches and brushwood. When Philip set a match 
to the pile, it being very dry, as it was long since 
there had been a rain, the branches blazed up furi • 
ously, instead of smudging, as Philip had planned. 
Philip threw on more wood to smother the flames, but 
they only leaped more eagerly from branch to branch, 
higher and higher. 

The fire was a success from the artistic standpoint, 
lighting up the dark pines around with a ruddy glai-e, 
and shining out on the water most picturesquely, and 
Amy danced around it, delighted. 

Oh, how wild and romantic it looks ! ” she 
cried. 

But her mother surveyed the high blaze with 
anxiety. 


172 A Jolly Crood Summer, 

“ Do you think it is quite safe, Philip? ’’ she asked. 

We have had such a long drought, everything is like 
tinder. If this cottage should catch fire, it would 
have to bum down. No help could get to us, and we 
should simply have to stand and see it burn with 
water all around it.’^ 

As if to emphasize these remarks, a light breeze 
sprang up, blowing not only the smoke, but sparks 
and flames towards the cottage. As they were not 
prepared to pay for the cottage, in case it was de- 
stroyed, they now all flew about even more energet- 
ically to extinguish the fire than they had worked to 
build it. ‘Then there was no refuge but bed, where 
under their nets they could hear the enemy vainly 
humming in frantic rage around them. 

The poor little babies were heard wailing all night. 
The next day there was no comfort for them, and 
after another night of mosquitoes, Sydney and Faith 
decided, like Touchstone, that home was a better 
place, especially for babies, and departed, Madge and 
E-uth, in their pink sun-hats, looking like tiny fairies 
as they sat in the canoe, swiftly gliding away across 
the pond. Amy was somewhat comforted in losing 
her little nieces, to know that she was to visit Faith 
and Sydney when she left the island. 

By constant practice Amy had become really skil- 
ful with the oars. Often might she be seen rowing 
about the pond alone. One day, when she and 
Sue were out rowing together, they thought they 
would land and investigate a small sandy island, the 
only one beside their own in the pond. There was a 
little hut on it. Amy’s imagination was disposed to 
make the most of their being in a wilderness. Sud- 


Life in the Wildxioood, 173 

denly looking back, she terrified Sue, who was gather- 
muscle shells, by crying, — 

A man ! A man ! "Run, Sue, quick ! ” 

Both girls ran to their boat, and fell into it, rowing 
rapidly away. 

“ What sort of a man was it, Amy ? asked Sue, 
breathlessly. 

‘^Well, I didn^t exactly see anyone,’’ confessed 
Amy, but I thought I saw the door of the hut move 
a little, cautiously, you know, and it couldn’t move 
without some one moved it.” 

‘‘Oh,” said Sue, much relieved. “You make me 
think of the fright Gladys gave me when we first 
came here. She went over on the mainland with me, 
to let me sketch the island. I suppose she grew tired 
of staying there so long, as my sketch took a good 
while. I was hard at work, and Betty was peacefully 
sniffing about, when suddenly, apparently from the 
tree right over our heads, there came a strange sound, 
‘ Me-iew, Me~iew,’ like a great cat. I never heard 
anything like it before. Betty began to bark, and 
Gladys cried, — 

“ ‘ A wild cat ! ’ 

“You know how dramatic she can look. Her great 
eyes were enough to frighten me, if I had n’t been 
startled before. 

“ ‘ We must save Betty ! ’ cried Gladys, seizing 
Betty and leaping into the boat. 

“ I was not far behind her, you may be sure. Our 
jumping in pushed the boat off while one of my feet 
was in it, and one on shore, and I had to tumble in 
head-first. How Gladys did laugh ! ” 

“ Was it really a wild cat ? ” asked Amy, her eyes 
quite large at this new terror of the wilderness. 


174 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

Philip said it was a cat-bird. I guess Gladys 
knew well enough what it was all the time.’’ 

That evening the wind changed, and a fine breeze 
sprang up that drove away the mosquitoes as if by 
magic and restored the islanders to the enjoyment of 
life again. After supper they rowed up the pond in 
the sunset glories reflected in the water, and floated 
down. Gladys had her violin, and Philip his guitar, 
and they played and sang as they drifted, the frogs 
and whippoorwills hearing music that would have 
charmed the most cultured audience. The singing 
was doubly effective heard thus on the water, with 
the twilight deepening around them. There was a 
fine echo somewhere off over the woods. As the 
tones of Gladys’s voice rang out, sweet, high, clear, 
this echo far off over the dark, solitary woods repeated 
and magnified the notes, like a spirit voice in the 
sky chanting with her. Then Philip came in with 
his baritone, the different notes they sang blending in 
the distance in wonderful chords, like a mighty 
organ’s diapason. 

Absorbed in the music, the occupants of the yellow 
boat had lain luxuriously on their oars, floating along 
imperceptibly, never noticing that they were nearing 
a sand-bar, which they well knew ran out far into the 
pond from the Cove. Suddenly they were rudely 
wakened from their bliss by running aground. 

“ What a shame,” said Amy. “We ’re fast on that 
sand-bar ! I forgot all about it.” 

“Never mind. We can easily push off,” said Sue. 

Their passenger, Mrs. Strong, was not alarmed, for 
the excellent reason that, although they were some 
distance from land, her own eyes assured her that 


Life in the Wildwood. 175 

they could easily wade ashore on the bar if the worst 
came to the worst. 

The girls stood up and pushed with all their might, 
but the boat would not start. Then Mrs. Strong 
tried her strength in vain. Now Philip spied their 
plight, and came to the rescue. Sue threw their rope 
over to Gladys; she pulled, Philip rowed, the girls 
pushed, and Betty barked, and yet the boat stuck 
fast. 

“ Hullo ! came a stentorian call from the main- 
land. 

There ^s the ice,’^ said Philip. “ I must go and 
bring that across, and then I will come back for you. 
Keep perfectly still until I come back.^’ 

WeT-e quite safe to do that,’^ said Sue, <^for we 
canT stir if we want to.^’ 

It took Philip some time to get the ice, but the 
prisoners in the yellow boat passed the time agree- 
ably. Amy and Sue amused themselves by calling 
to the echo, half awed as the great, mysterious voice, 
far off in the sky, solemnly repeated their foolish 
words. 

“ I feel as if we were impertinent to It,’l said 
Amy. 

Then she and Sue sang, while Mrs. Strong lay 
back in the stern, enjoying the beauty around her. 
An afterglow of glory had followed the sunset, and 
was reflected in the water, smooth and glassy now, 
as the breeze had died away. The frogs began to 
croak, and from the forest came the sweet, melancholy 
notes of a wood-thrush. She was almost sorry when 
she saw Philip and Gladys coming back, towing the 
green boat. 


176 A Jolly Crood Summer. 

‘‘We must lighten your boat, before we can get it 
off the sand-bar,” he said. 

True enough, when his mother and Sue had climbed 
over into the green boat, it was found easy to pull off 
the yellow boat with only Amy’s light weight in it. 
She lay back in the stern, pleasing herself with her 
favorite fancy of being a princess of high degree, and 
was towed ashore in solitary grandeur. 


Huckleher vying. 


177 


CHAPTER XIII. 


HUCKLEBERRYING. 



‘HE islanders’ chief link with the world was the 


iceman, or rather the iceman’s horse, which at 
uncertain intervals, when off duty, could be hired for 
a consideration, with a two-seated carriage capable 
of carrying the whole company, Amy hardly count- 
ing. With this equipage they occasionally drove up 
through the woods to Plymouth. 

Betty had a little red harness covered with bells 
bought in Paris. When this harness was taken out 
and shaken at her, Betty barked and bounced around 
with delight, well aware that some expedition was on 
foot. On these exciting returns to the gay world, 
they visited the post-oflB.ce, the library, and the 
grocer’s, little Betty in her jingling harness trotting 
behind them, the observed of all observers, especially 
among the children. The young people were sure to 
land at a too convenient ice-cream saloon, and also 
often fell into the snares of a tempting store, full of 
bric-a-brac souvenirs of Plymouth. Then some one 
must always have a new pair of tennis shoes, as 
rambling in the woods was fatal to shoes. 

These important errands done, they drove along the 
shore road to the south, enjoying the quaint and 
ancient houses, the ocean view, and if the wind set in 


12 


178 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

the right quarter, a delicious salt breeze. Always 
were they haunted by memories of the Pilgrim 
Fathers. 

They read almost nothing but Pilgrim literature. 
Amy was absorbed in Betty Alden,” Gladys and 
Sue in Standish of Standish,’’ Philip was reading 
Goodwin’s Pilgrim Eepublic,” while Mrs. Strong 
was living in the graphic pages of Mourt’s Relation ” 
until the old times seemed so real that, as she sat 
reading in the woods, she would have hardly been 
surprised to see a canoe guided by an Indian putting 
out from the thicket on the opposite shore, shooting 
swiftly across the sparkling water ; or if, parting the 
bushes, a party of Pilgrims in pointed hats had 
pushed through to hunt for deer, or fish, as of old, in 
the pond whose plentiful stores often eked out their 
meagre fare. 

The entire seclusion of their lives gave them a 
delightful sense of freedom unknown to the frequent- 
ers of summer hotels. They revelled in old clothes. 
In a closet was found a choice collection of old hats, 
so far beyond injury that they were sometimes bor- 
rowed, lending amusing masquerade effects to their 
costumes. Philip chopped and sawed so much wood 
that his hands and neck were brown as a farmer’s, 
and his shoulders broadened until it was a question 
whether he would be able to get on his dress coat 
when he returned to it and civilization. 

Amy and Sue grew hungry, plump and rosy, even 
if a little freckled too, and Gladys’s dark eyes 
sparkled every day with new life, while her voice 
gained sweetness and strength in this free, out-door 
life. It was so odd, and yet so delightful, to have no 


Huchleherrying, 179 

door-bell, with its constant claims on their time, their 
purse, or their patience ; no neighbors to be disturbed 
or think anything improper ; ” no carriage wheels 
driving by ; no sound of horse’s hoof. 

One afternoon Mrs. Strong was lying down, when 
Amy ran upstairs and into the room, looking so pale 
and excited that her mother was startled. 

I never was so frightened in my life ! ” gasped 
Amy. 

What is the matter ? ” asked her mother, sitting 
up. 

Miss Williams came to call ! ” said Amy. 

Mrs. Strong stared at Amy, bewildered. Miss 
Williams lived in Plymouth and was the sister of the 
gentleman who owned the cottage. As she was a 
gentle-lady, even a first call from her did not seem 
calculated to inspire extreme terror. Could it be 
that Amy had lived so long in the woods as to have 
become partly savage, ready to flee at the approach of 
the white man ? ” 

But the case became clearer as Amy gained breath 
enough to continue her tale. 

Philip has the yellow boat out fishing somewhere. 
I was wading near the wharf when I saw the carriage 
drive up at the landing, and the driver called across 
to me. I ran up to the porch and called Gladys and 
Sue, and then I waded out to get the green boat for 
them. That leaks badly, but Gladys was afraid of 
tipping over in the canoe, when Philip was nowhere 
around to save her, so she had to take that. As I 
waded out to the green boat, there was a water-snake, 
close to where I had been wading ! It lay all coiled 
up, with its head sticking straight up! I almost 


180 A Jolly Good Summer. 

stepped on it before I saw it. I screamed, and that 
startled Gladys so she hardly knew what she was 
about. But she and Sue managed to row over and 
explain the situation to Miss Williams. She had on 
a beautiful lace dress, so of course she could n’t get 
into that old leaky boat. She said she would come 
again, and drove away. After she was gone, Gladys 
remembered that she had on one of those old hats. 
What if it was Miss Williams’s sister’s hat ! ” 

I only hope Miss Williams will not think us a 
sort of aborigines in earnest,” said Mrs. Strong. 

I know one thing,” said Amy. I ’m never going 
to wade in that pond again.” 

She kept this resolution firmly for several days 
until the memory of the water-snake had grown less 
vivid, and then returned to her favorite pleasure, 
which made her mother say she expected daily to see 
Amy become web-footed. 

Glowing accounts of island life were often sent to 
Professor Strong, and late in July came a letter 
announcing his arrival the following Friday. On that 
morning the girls were up early and off with the boat 
for wild-flowers, and the parlor was put in festive 
array with vases, jars, pitchers, and bowls of flowers 
set, here, there, everywhere. 

I shall have time for a bath before father comes,” 
said Philip. 

But while he was swimming about, a shout was 
heard from the lower landing, where a well-known, 
tall form was seen. 

There ’s papa, now ! ” cried Amy, all excite- 
ment. 

Drive up to the upper landing ! ” shouted Philip, 


Huchleherrying. 181 

putting his hands to his mouth to throw the sound 
across the water. 

While Philip dashed in to dress, Amy and Gladys 
rowed the yellow boat over to the upper landing 
where stood the Professor, looking most correct and 
civilized with his valise, his fresh summer suit, and 
his new straw hat, but his face wearing an affectionate 
smile as he looked at the two slender forms so dear to 
him, blue-eyed Amy, black-eyed Gladys, plying the 
oars so briskly in their haste to greet him that the 
boat literally leaped along the water, and, perhaps 
catching some excitement from its oarswomen, tipped 
and wabbled about so much when the Professor was 
getting in, that he nearly fell down. 

It seems so odd to see you in a boat, papa,” said 
Amy. 

Why, pray ? ” 

don’t know. It seems undignified — for you. 
I suppose it is because I never saw you in a boat 
before.” 

“ I used to row on the Charles,” said the Professor, 

when I was at Harvard, and I do not think I have 
wholly forgotten how yet.” 

The Professor received the warmest welcome to the 
island, and was duly escorted around to see its 
beauties by the whole party. In the evening they all 
went rowing, the Professor, though a little clumsy at 
first, soon finding his old skill rapidly returning. 
When they returned to the camp-chairs and hammocks 
of the porch, Philip and Gladys gave a grand musi- 
cale in honor of his arrival, music being his delight, 
especially the music of his children’s voices. 

Professor Strong took to wildwood life with 


182 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

enthusiasm, finding great pleasure in renewing rec- 
collections of his boyoood on a farm by chopping 
wood, in rowing and fishing, and in long walks 
through the woods. 

One morning Philip announced at the breakfast- 
table, — 

“ Huckleberries are ripe now , and the woods over 
on the shore are full of bushes. Chloe says she will 
make a delicious huckleberry cake for supper if we 
will get her the berries.” 

“ What fun ! ” said Amy. “ I never went huckle- 
berry ing in my life.” 

haven’t been berrying since I was a boy,” said 
Professor Strong. 

“We almost never see huckleberries out 'west,” 
said Mrs. Strong. “I should really enjoy picking 
some again.” 

Gladys and Sue, like Amy, had never been berry- 
ing, and were sure it must be great fun. In short, 
every one welcomed Philip’s proposal with delight, 
and soon after breakfast the whole party set forth, 
leaving Chloe alone on the island. Chloe had been 
invited, but declined to go. She said she was 
“awful ’fraid o’ snakes.” When the party returned, 
they had a dim suspicion that, in addition to her 
fear of snakes, perhaps Chloe knew .huckleberry ing 
to be hard work. 

Making the boats fast to bushes along shore, they 
scrambled up the bank, and soon came upon plenty 
of bushes scattered around in the woods. But the 
bushes were not very heavily loaded, and it takes a 
great many huckleberries to even cover the bottom 
of a large pail, to say nothing of filling it. 


Hncklebet ryit^g , 1 83 

“Huckleberries are so very little, I get discour- 
aged,” said Amy. 

“So do I, Amy,” said Gladys. 

“Patience and perseverance, girls,” said Mrs. 
Strong. “But I must admit it is rather tiresome 
work.” 

“ I noticed a place in the clearing over near Little 
Pond, where the bushes looked thick,” said Philip. 
“Suppose we try that.” 

As the party straggled across the road towards 
Little Pond, they encountered a carriage -load of 
pleasure seekers from Plymouth, who stared at them 
freely, — as being gypsies , perhaps, or the native 
denizens of the forests. Mrs. Strong, who wore a 
faded gingham skirt and blouse, and one of the hats 
of the house, — an old palm-leaf with no trimming, — 
plunged into the nearest berry-bush, and began pick- 
ing, while the girls hastened on into the depths of 
the woods; but Professor Strong and Philip saun- 
tered along with easy indifference to looks. The 
Professor had on an old straw hat, which his head 
bulged up in the middle. 

“ Your father has rather an intellectual look, even 
in that hat,” said Mrs. Strong. “Perhaps he saved 
our reputation.” 

“Yes, father does look as if he had seen better 
days,” said Philip. 

“ Perhaps they will think we are princes and prin- 
cesses in disguise, or enchanted in this wood,” said 
Amy. 

“Why, of course,” said Philip. “Luckily, we 
don’t care very much what they do think. Here is 
my clearing.” 


184 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

Among the stumps and decaying logs of the clear- 
ing, the bushes grew thickly, and were full of berries, 
but the surrounding woods shut off all breeze, while 
the sun, nearing the zenith, poured down its hottest 
rays. 

“Do see Betty,” said Gladys. “Naughty! ” 

Betty was nibbling berries from all the low bushes 
around. 

‘‘Perhaps the poor little thing is thirsty,” said 
Amy. “I know I am.” 

“I believe my back does not bend as easily as 
when I was a boy,” said the Professor, straightening 
himself with something like a groan. 

“ How blisteringly the sun does beat down into this 
hollow!” said Mrs. Strong. “What is the matter, 
Sue?” 

“My head aches so, bending over in the heat!” 
said Sue, who sat on the ground in the shade of a 
big bush, with a flushed face, fanning herself with 
her hat. 

Here Gladys said she felt dizzy. Philip, perceiv- 
ing that his pickers were getting demoralized, sug- 
gested that they go home, and met with no opposition 
from any one. The welcome shades of the island had 
never seemed more refreshing than to-day, when the 
tired, heated berry-pickers dropped into chairs and 
hammocks on the wide, breezy porch, and drank the 
iced lemonade that Chloe had all ready for their 
return. 

After this, any proposals from Philip to go berry- 
ing were met with a painful lack of enthusiasm by 
the ladies. They were quite satisfied to eat berries 


Huckleherrying. 185 

from the Plymouth grocery, even if it were not so 
romantic, or the berries not so fresh as those of their 
own gathering. Only the Professor, with his native 
New England contempt of shirking anything merely 
because it was hard or unpleasant, was left to join 
Philip when he went berrying. 


186 


A Jolly Cfood Summer, 


CHAPTEE XIV. 

SOME HAPPENINGS. 

I T took but a small event to be an excitement for 
the secluded islanders. One afternoon, Philip, 
who was out swimming, was heard to shout excitedly, 
as if for help. Gladys, who, although Philip was 
an expert swimmer, cherished an abiding fear that 
he would some time be drowned, dropped her book, 
bounded out of her hammock and to the rear of the 
porch in a second, followed closely by Mrs. Strong 
and the Professor. Philip was seen near the edge 
of the pond, holding up by the tail some unknown 
creature. 

“What is it, Philip?” called Gladys. “You 
frightened me so ! ” 

“IVe caught a musk-rat,” said Philip. “Bring 
down a box, some one, quick, to put him in before he 
bites me, as he is trying his best to do! ” 

A small, wooden box was found among Chloe^s 
stores. Philip succeeded in getting the musk-rat 
into it, and tacked enough slats across to hold him 
in until they had examined him. 

“We must call Sue and Amy,” said Gladys. “I 
don’t suppose they ever saw a musk-rat.” 

A loud “ walla- walla-'z^^a^-hoo,” brought the girls 
running from the pine-grove, and many were their 


187 


Some Happenings. 

exclamations over the musk-rat, who, far from feeling 
flattered by the attention he was exciting, jumped 
frantically around, snapping furiously, and trying to 
bite them with his teeth, long, sharp, and fine as 
needles. Especially did he aim to set these teeth 
into Betty’s paws; and there seemed every prospect 
of his succeeding, as Betty, wild with excitement, 
persisted in jumping on the box, until Gladys had to 
shut her up in her bed-room for safety, whence Betty 
could be heard loudly barking, and scratching the 
door in frantic efforts to get out. 

^‘How in the world did you catch him, Philip?” 
asked Gladys. 

“ I saw him swimming out in the pond beyond me, 
and I kept between him and the shore until I tired 
him out.” 

“He looks like a great brown rat,” said Sue. 

“Yes, but with a difference,” said the Professor. 
“Notice how thick and fine the fur is over his ears, 
to keep out the water; and his hind legs look as if 
twisted a little. That enables him to ‘ feather his 
oar ’ in swimming. And how thick his fur is ! He 
is admirably fitted for his work in every way. You 
will have something to tell Dr. Hough when you go 
home, Amy.” 

“He will be very much interested,” said Amy, 
“ because he used to catch musk-rats himself when he 
was a boy. He used to catch them in traps. Poor 
little thing, how frightened he is! Won’t you let 
him go, Philip?” 

“Yes, now we have all seen him.” 

Philip took the box down beside the pond, and 
ripped off a slat. The musk-rat did not tarry to say 


188 A Jolly Good Summer, 

good-by, but, too tired to swim, dasbed up the bank 
into a dense thicket of brush, where he could rest, 
and recover from his fright. 

“ I suppose he will often tell his children about his 
terrible adventure, falling into a great ogre’s hands,” 
said Amy, who was watching the prisoner’s release 
from a safe distance, and looking at the affair wholly 
from the musk-rat’s point of view. 

August brought them some neighbors. One Satur- 
day night, two families came down to camp out in 
some of the huts over in the woods on shore. They 
hung out their hammocks, and had boats of their 
own. It seemed strange to hear voices, and see 
strange boats on what the islanders had come to 
regard as their pond. Hitherto, except for an occa- 
sional party of fishermen, they had had it wholly to 
themselves. As water carries sound a long distance, 
although the hut at the point they had named “Ked 
Bank” was a quarter of a mile away, they plainly 
heard a small child cry, and then the father, as he 
supposed, alone in the bosom of his family, shout 
out, — 

Shut up ! D’ ye hear me? ” 

“I must say I do not altogether like this,” said 
Philip. ‘‘I feel like that backwoods pioneer who, 
when a man settled within a mile of him, said, 
‘ Folks is a-gittin’ too thick ’round here,’ and de- 
camped farther on into the wilderness.” 

“Perhaps they will go away soon,” said Gladys. 

True enough, Monday morning the intruders de- 
parted; but they returned every Saturday to spend 
Sunday. And a club of young men came down and 
camped in two small huts over on the mainland. 


189 


Some Happenings. 

opposite Breeze Point. Probably tbe lints were their 
own, built for a few weeks’ yearly hunting and fish- 
ing. These young men gave the pond new life. 
They were dressed alike, in a sort of canoeing cos- 
tume, and they hung out a huge sign on one of their 
huts — “The Manomet Club” — for the benefit of all 
whom it might concern. They brought three boats 
and a canoe. 

The girls never tired of watching the canoeist, as 
his light bark dashed over the pond, leaving a trail 
of ripples behind, his wet paddles flashing in the 
sunlight as they dipped and rose, first one, then the 
other, in perfect rhythm. 

“I love to see his paddles dip, dip,” said Gladys, 
one day when they were watching him. 

“Yes, it’s very pretty,” said Philip; “but I wish 
he would not dip them quite so often around our 
island.” 

Por the Manomet Club had not been long in dis- 
covering that there were girls on the island, and 
pretty ones, too, and their business seemed to take 
them often in its vicinity. They were always hover- 
ing about, and one day a bold spirit landed and came 
up to the cottage for “a drink of water.” But as 
every one had gone to Plymouth, he only had the 
pleasure of seeing Chloe for his trouble. Finding 
that their overtures to an acquaintance were not met 
cordially, the club finally subsided, and left the 
islanders in peace, refraining from serenading them 
with college songs evenings, after they happened to 
hear Philip and Gladys singing one evening. 

Their boyish pranks and unfailing spirits often 
diverted the islanders, who viewed them from their 


190 


A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

fastnesses among the trees, as if their larks were an 
aquatic opera; and when, at the end of two weeks, 
“the boys” left, the pond seemed quite lonely, 
even if the islanders were more free to row about it 
themselves. 

One of Amy^s pleasures since arriving on the 
island had been taking photographs. With her own 
hands she had carefully packed her camera and all 
her photographic apparatus in a basket, which she 
had brought in the cars. At first, there was trouble 
because there was no dark closet in which to develop 
her plates ; but Philip came to her rescue, and fitted 
up a closet in an unused chamber for her. He made 
her a dark lantern, too, out of a cigar box, cutting 
one side away, and pasting red paper over it. 

In this lantern Amy stuck bits of kitchen candles 
that Chloe was careful to save for her, by the sim- 
ple process of melting one end. In 'return, Amy 
took Chloe’s picture, sitting on the porch railing. 
Chloe’s hands, spread out on her white apron, were 
immense in the picture, while her turbaned head, 
being out of focus, was somewhat vague; but her 
striped calico dress took finely, and Chloe was as 
pleased as possible with the little photograph, show- 
ing her teeth, and chuckling, as she looked at it, 
saying, — 

“He! he! I ’spect my ole mammy ^11 be tickled 
’most to death with that picture.” 

Amy took a fascinating picture of Gladys playing 
her violin, a pretty one of Sue in the swing, and one 
of Philip leaning on his saw in the woods. Beside 
it, in the book were she pasted her photographs, she 
wrote, — 


Some Happenings. 191 

“Philip Strong, the famous piano player, singer, 
and wood-chopper of Billington Sea.’’ 

One fine morning Amy ran up to her dark closet 
with a plate, on which she had just taken a water 
view. When developed, it came out so clearly, and 
proved to be such a pretty picture, that, in her 
delight, she ran downstairs to show it to Gladys and 
Sue on the porch. Here she discovered Betty in so 
favorable a position for photographing, that she felt 
she must seize the opportunity to secure the picture 
of her for which she had long been trying in 
vain. 

“Now, Miss Bettina Puggins,” she said, “I do 
hope you will be good this time. You never will 
keep still when I try to take your photograph.” 

When all was ready, Gladys, to make Betty stick 
up her ears and assume her prettiest expression, said, 
with animation, — 

“ Mouse, Betty ! Mouse ! ” 

This had too great effect, for Betty not only erected 
her ears in her most becoming expression, but per- 
sisted in trotting and sniffing about, in search of this 
imaginary mouse. 

“Silly, come back here!” said Gladys. “Now sit 
down. Keep still, naughty ! ” 

These severe words depressed Betty’s spirits so 
sadly, that it was necessary to try to cheer her again. 
It seemed impossible to get her into a satisfactory 
pose, and keep her there, although Gladys, Sue, and 
Amy were all giving their whole minds to this im- 
portant task. 

Mrs. Strong, meantime, who sat upstairs writing by 
her pleasant window that looked out into the pine- 


192 A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

tree branches, began to fancy she smelt something 
burning. 

‘‘It is probably something Chloe is doing in the 
kitchen,’’ she thought. “ I am always imagining fire 
somewhere.” 

But as the smoky odor seemed to increase, she 
decided to look about, merely to relieve her mind of 
its foolish fancies. In the adjoining room she found 
the door of Amy’s dark closet open, also the win- 
dow opposite, through which a good breeze was 
blowing. 

Looking into the closet, to her horror she beheld a 
tongue of flame rising luridly among Amy’s effects. 
She dashed into her own room, seized her water 
pitcher, threw its contents into the dark closet, and 
the conflagration was extinguished. But Mrs. Strong 
felt quite weak with fright, merely at the thought of the 
possibilities to the pine cottage, dry as a tinder box, had 
she not happened luckily to be upstairs at that moment. 

Amy, on being called, confessed. 

“I left the candle in the dark lantern burning, 
instead of blowing it out as I usually do, because 
I meant to come right back. But Betty looked so 
cunning, I forgot all about it.” 

The candle had burned down and set the paper on 
fire. That had kindled the box, and in a few mo- 
ments more, perhaps, the blazing cigar-box would 
have lighted the dry pine boards of the closet. 

“ No more photography while we are on the island,” 
said Mrs. Strong, emphatically. “ This ends it. The 
risk is too great.” 

As Amy had already photographed nearly everybody 
and everything on or about the island, she was able 


193 


Some Happenings, 

to bear up under this decision with resignation, and 
took up sketching with renewed interest. 

One morning the wind blew from the east, bringing 
an invigorating salt breeze from the ocean over into 
the hollow where lay Billington Sea, like a bright 
mirror reflecting the green trees along its shore. 
This bracing air, the clear blue sky, the sparkling 
water fllled the islanders with the spirit of adventure. 
When Philip said at the breakfast table, 

I shall walk up to Plymouth this morning for 
the mail. Who wants to go with me ? 

I will go.” “And I.” “And I,” said every- 
body. 

They rowed down to the lower landing, and ran 
the boat up on the beach, where Philip chained it, to 
await their return. Then they took the Corduroy 
Path for Plymouth with that peculiarly valiant, 
independent feeling people are apt to enjoy when 
relying on their own unaided efforts. 

The Corduroy Path follows the Town Brook closely 
through the woods. Part of the way it lies through a 
cedar swamp, and here it is made of small logs laid 
across the path, like a genuine corduroy road. Hence 
its name. A prettier path was never seen. It winds 
along under the trees which meet in a dense arch 
overhead, through which the sun glimmers but fit- 
fully, now and then. Each way our pilgrims looked 
down its cool green vistas into the heart of the woods, 
or caught glimpses of the historic brook on whose 
brown surface floated lily pads, while in its clear 
mirror were reflected the arrow-shaped leaves of 
aquatic plants, or the brilliant blue dragon-flies dart- 
ing lightly over the water. 

13 


194 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

^^Amy looks as if she might be the fairy that 
haunts these woods,” said Gladys, glancing down the 
path where, far ahead, framed in by the green arch 
of the bending boughs, Amy’s slender form with the 
floating golden hair glided lightly along, followed 
closely by Betty in her bright red harness and jing- 
ling bells. 

“ And Betty might be the enchanted prince held 
captive by the fairy,” said Sue. 

‘^Amy is a sort of fairy princess, I sometimes 
think,” said Mrs. Strong, her eyes lovingly following 
the little girl who was the sunshine of her life. 

We may please ourselves by thinking that we are 
now literally walking in the footsteps of the Pil- 
grims,” said Professor Strong. The shore of this 
brook must have been their usual road to the pond, 
where we are told they often came to fish, or hunt 
deer. Miles Standish, Winslow, Bradford, and the 
rest must often have traversed this very ground.” 

And Massasoit and Samoset too,” said Philip. I 
read somewhere recently that the present road from 
the village to the pond follows the old Indian trail. 
The Indians fished in this brook and pond, and 
hunted in these woods, long before a white man set 
foot here.” 

So pleasant were their surroundings that the pil- 
grims did not hurry, but often sat down to rest and 
chat, breathing in the damp, pungent odor of the 
woods, a mingling of pine and fern and cedar and 
mouldering dead leaves. Skirting the shore of Little 
Pond, which would be a gem of purest ray serene ” 
anywhere but in Plymouth, where beautiful ponds 
are so common, they came at last out of the cool 


195 


Some Happenings. 

shade of the woods and the imagined company of 
Puritans and Indians upon the dusty highway, into 
the glaring sunlight and the realities of every-day 
life. 

They closed ranks, ceased their aimless sauntering, 
assumed the hurried, busy step of their busy age, 
and went to the post-office, the butcher’s, the baker’s, 
and candlestick-maker’s. The neceessary errands 
done, they turned their steps up Burial Hill, which 
they had not yet visited. 

The older folk, as they slowly climbed the steep 
ascent, could but think of the many aching hearts 
that had toiled up this same path. Along the grassy 
hillside leaned thickly the old black slate gravestones 
with their quaint inscriptions. What agony, what 
heartbreak, when the fresh sod was broken for 
these graves ! And now how quietly sleep both the 
mourner and the mourned, alike forgotten, while 
the careless foot of the sight-seer perchance wears a 
footpath across their graves, unconscious of the 
precious dust below. And yet — this is not all. 

“ Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 

Like seasoned timber, never gives ; 

But though the whole world turn to coal. 

Then chiefly lives.” 

Our friends tried to ignore the present, blot out the 
village of to-day, and see in fancy only the pitiful 
little cluster of huts at the foot of Leyden Street 
near the place of landing, and on this hill the rude 
Pirst Church,” which was fort too, the ordnance on 
its top commanding not only steep Leyden Street to 
the sea, but the country all around. 


196 A Jolly Grood Summer. 

Before them lay the harbor where the Mayflower 
dropped anchor at last, after her long, weary voyage. 
To the left rose Captain’s Hill, where valiant Miles 
Standish made his home. Farther out in the bay they 
saw the small island where the Pilgrim records tell 
us on the Sabbath-day wee rested,” and where they 
held the first religious service ever held in New 
England. Saquish, the Gurnet, and the long strip of 
Plymouth beach broke into the deep blue of the 
water ; and, the day being so clear and brilliant, 
they could see distinctly a dim, yellowish semicircle 
stretching far around to the right, dividing the blue 
of sea and sky, which they knew to be Cape Cod. 

The view was beautiful in itself, and full of the 
most deeply interesting associations, when they 
realized that here below — one little spot of civiliza- 
tion on the eastern edge of the vast wilderness — 
was the amphitheatre where the Pilgrims played 
their part, and made the brave struggle destined to 
leave so deep and lasting an impress on a great 
nation yet unborn. 

‘^The Pilgrims certainly had a goodly heritage,” 
said Professor Strong, as he looked around on the 
beautiful landscape. 

cannot help thinking of the Puritan women,” 
said Mrs. Strong, ^^how some of them may have 
stood where we do now, with hearts full of homesick 
longing, watching the Mayflower, their only link with 
civilization, sail out of this harbor. Their hearts 
must have sunk within them as her sails disappeared 
at last in the distance ; yet they did not flinch. To 
my mind, one of the most suggestive things re- 
corded of the Pilgrims is the fact that, after that 


Some Happenings. 197 

terrible first winter of sickness, hardship, death, not 
one of the survivors returned in the Mayflower. 
What resolution they had, what unwavering steadfast- 
ness, what firm religious trust ! ’’ 

believe there are people to-day who would do 
the same thing if they were put to the test,” said 
Gladys. 

“Gladys,” said Sue, “did you know that Mrs. 
Stearns keeps the prettiest souvenir teacups at her 
store ? Some have the Mayflower on them, and 
some Plymouth Eock, with the landing of the 
Pilgrims.” 

“I hope, mamma,” said Amy, “that you will be 
sure to buy me a Plymouth souvenir spoon before we 
go away. I want one of those with Plymouth Eock 
on the handle.” 

“ To such base uses have the Pilgrim Fathers come 
at last,” said the Professor, rather grimly, as he 
declined the offer of a boy with a satchel who seemed 
to frequent the graveyard expressly to waylay un- 
suspicious strangers, and who pressed upon the 
Professor penholders with peepholes in the handles 
wherein one might see the Pilgrim monument, the 
Eock, or other objects of local interest. 

This invasion of the nineteenth century effectually 
destroyed the illusions of the historic past, and 
especially disgusted the Professor, who read aloud 
with evident relish the inscription on the headstone 
of Mistress Tabitha Plasket, composed by herself : — 

“ Adieu, vain world ; T Ve seen enough of thee ! 

And 1 am careless what thou say’st of me. 

Thy smiles I wish not, 

Nor thy frowns I fear ; 

I am at rest, my head lies quiet here.” 


198 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

I fancy that vigorous Mistress Flasket would be 
moved to drive the * vain world ’ off Burial Hill, if 
she could return,” said Philip. She used to keep 
a dame school in her own house, spinning as she 
taught, and if any of her pupils misbehaved she 
hung them up on the wall by skeins of yarn under 
their arms. Sometimes she had a whole row sus- 
pended at one time. How should you have enjoyed 
that, Amy ? ” 

“It must have been very funny,” said Amy. “But 
I should think the boys would have kicked each 
other.” 

“Probably they did,” said Philip, “as boys were 
boys then as much as now. But I imagine they 
were extremely careful to do it when Mistress 
Flasket’s back was turned, as she no doubt had a fine 
bunch of rods handy, and no scruples about using it 
when needed.” 

“ Hot only no scruples, but she doubtless felt it her 
most imperative duty not to ^ spare the rod,’ ” said 
the Professor. “ Whipping was held in high esteem 
in that age, and the Puritan laws often condemned 
culprits to be ^ severely whipt ’ for slight offences.” 

“ I ’m very glad I did not live then,” said Amy. 

But even Amy was not too young to appreciate the 
Pilgrim spirit, and to feel the influence of her sur- 
roundings, for the next day, Sunday, while her father 
and mother were gone to church, she sat up in the 
Perch and wrote this poem : — 

I am cast on a desolate island, 

Out in a lonesome sea, 

And over on the mainland 
Is nothing but tree upon tree. 


199 


Some Happenings, 

I hear the whippoorwill singing 
As he builds his nest on high, 

And can see the wild-geese winging 
Their way through the cloudless sky. 

Oh, Pilgrims, oh, Puritan Fathers, 

A I can fancy I see you still. 

Toiling away in the wilderness. 

With po support but your will. 

You have started a wondrous nation, 

A nation strong and free. 

And have caused the Indian sachem 
To wilder haunts to flee. 

And now before I flnish 
This peregrination wild. 

Let us ask you to leave as an heirloom 
Your disposition mild. 

Which we may in time inherit 
Throughout this blessed land, 

And then we may to our merit 
Be as children, hand in hand. 

Below the poem' was a picture of a group of chil- 
dren, hand in hand, dancing gaily. 

‘‘ I know the last two verses are not very good,’’ 
said I was tired of writing, and finished it 

off anyway. I could n’t express my ideas exactly. 
I did n’t think the Pilgrims ought to be called ‘mild,’ 
but I had to say so, to rhyme with ‘ wild.’ ” 

Her parents read the poem with fond admiration, 
which they were careful not to express strongly 
before Amy, lest she lose her sweet naturalness, and 
become that most disagreeable creature, a self-con- 
scious, priggish child. 


200 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


CHAPTER XV. 

A FEW LETTERS. 

I N the quiet of island life, the Arrival of the mail 
was always an event of interest. When the ice- 
man’s horse could not be had, the men often walked 
up to Plymouth for it, but, as this was not always 
convenient, sometimes it happened that two or three 
days passed without any communications from the 
outside world. 

It was after one of these intervals that the other 
islanders were sitting on the porch impatiently watch- 
ing for the return of Gladys and Philip, who had 
walked up for the mail. 

Betty, much against her will, had been left behind. 
It was touching to see her run around the house hunt- 
ing for Gladys, even standing up on her hind-legs to 
look on the beds, in the vain hope that there she should 
discover her dear mistress. Satisfied at last that it 
was useless to look farther, she seemed to have 
adopted Mrs. Strong as her mistress pro tern, and was 
now lying on the folds of that lady’s skirt on the floor, 
as close to her as she could get. Suddenly she leaped 
up, erected her ears quivering with eagerness, gave 
one sharp, short bark of joy, and dashed down to the 
wharf. 

They must be coming,” said Mrs. Strong. 


A Few Letters, 201 

don’t hear the slightest sound,” said the 
Professor. 

Betty certainly hears them,” said Mrs. Strong. 

“ She always hears Gladys’s voice before any one 
else does,” said Sue. 

Now they too heard, far off in the woods, the 
unmistakable notes of Gladys’s voice singing: 
Gladys’s voice had great carrying quality. The man 
from whom they bought vegetables, who lived on 
a clearing in the woods about a mile from the pond, 
said to Philip one day, — 

I admire to hear your wife sing.” 

Why, where did you ever hear her ? ” asked 
Philip, surprised. 

always set out doors evenin’s and smoke my 
pipe, and listen to her. She beats the robins holler, 
I tell you.” 

So, although they plainly heard Gladys’s sweet 
notes, it was still some time before she and Philip 
were seen to come out of the woods at the lower land- 
ing and get into the canoe. 

The whole company went down to meet them on 
the little wharf, where the national flag on the minia- 
ture flag-staff was fluttering bravely over Betty run- 
ning wildly up and down, barking and whining. Amy 
was almost as excited as Betty, especially when, as 
the canoe drew nearer, Gladys held up a handful of 
letters, calling, — 

Three for you, Amy.” 

Betty now showed plainly that an animal reasons, 
though not always wisely. In her impatience to 
reach her mistress she ran down and leaped into the 
yellow boat, which was tied at the wharf. She knew 


202 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

that boats went out on the water, and evidently- 
reasoned in her little mind, — 

I get into the boat, it will take me out to 
Gladys/’ 

But, as Betty could not handle the oars, the boat 
did not stir, and she had to content herself by stand- 
ing up in it on her hind-legs, barking frantically, until 
the canoe grazed the sand, when she darted to Gladys 
and was rewarded for her devotion by being taken up 
at once. 

‘•Xome here, this minute, little Tender Heart and 
Patter Foot,” said Gladys. 

Betty looked so satisfied in her mistress’s arms. 
When we see the faithful love of dogs and horses for 
their masters, the almost soul that looks longingly 
out of their eyes, we must wonder how they can ever 
be roughly treated and abused. But some men abuse 
not only helpless animals, but women and little 
children. It takes all sorts of people to make a 
world, we are told, and some of the varieties are but 
sorry specimens. 

Oh, mamma ! ” cried Amy, as she fell upon the 
letters that Gladys outheld, ^^only think, I have a 
letter from Irene, and one from Kitty, and such a fat 
one from Laura ! Did you ever hear of such good 
luck ? ” 

But all were deep in their own letters, and the 
Professor lost to view in the folds of a three days’ old 
Cincinnati paper. Amy found she must wait a while 
for interest and sympathy in her own precious let- 
ters, and plunged into the enjoyment of them without 
further delay. 

Irene’s letter was mailed at Evansville, Indiana, 
and dated,^ — 


A Few Letters, 


203 


U. S. Steamer Golden Rod, Aug. 7. 

Dear Amy, — I have gone with papa and Zelia for a two 
weeks’ cruise on the light-house tender, “Golden Rod.” We 
have had a delightful trip, and I feel very sorry that I shall 
have to be in Cincinnati so soon. But it seems so queer to be 
away from mamma. It is the first time I have ever been 
separated from her. 

The scenery is simply perfect along the river ; the sloping 
banks generally of rocks and boulders, the trees beyond, hung 
with vines, w'hich form archways of leaves, and the wooded 
hills beyond forming the background. 

I think it was the third night out that we spent at Empire 
Landing, a beautiful place. The cliffs rose at least a hundred 
feet above us, perpendicularly. We spent the next night at 
Louisville, and Zelia and I went ashore. It is a beautiful city. 
The houses are all huge, old fashioned. Southern houses. We 
took a street-car ride to Jacob Park. They have the funniest 
arrangement for paying you ever saw. There is a hollow 
brass rod that extends around the car, with places to drop the 
change in, and it (I mean the change !) slides down to the 
motor-man who takes it. 

The next morning we went through the locks around the 
Louisville Falls, and enjoyed it immensely. We passed 
Leavenworth, Indiana, where Wyandotte Cave is. I hope we 
can visit it going back. Shawneetown is a very funny place. 
It is below the level of the water, and of course is protected 
by dikes. The pigs run loose in the streets, and it looked so 
gloomy and dirty that I never want to go there again. 

We went as far as Cairo, and saw the Mississippi River. It 
was very peculiar what a distinct line there was between the 
water of the Mississippi, and the Ohio, the former was so 
much muddier. After stopping a short time at Cairo for the 
mail, we returned to Paducah where we got our pilot for the 
Tennessee River. On the Tennessee the scenery was very wild 
and beautiful. One time we went nearly fifty miles without 
seeing a sign of human habitation. The borders of the river 

O O 


204 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

are mostly covered with dense woods, and once in a while we 
could see a snake crawling along the shore, or swimming in 
the water. There were a great many turtles, and it was very 
interesting to watch them. 

We stopped at Pittsburg Landing where the famous battle 
of Shiloh was fought. We went all through the cemetery, 
where thousands of the Union soldiers are buried, and more 
than half are unknown dead. We could see the remains of 
camping utensils, and some of the trees were simply imbedded 
with bullets. It was very interesting to see the house where 
Grant was staying, when the news of the Southerners’ attack 
on Shiloh was made known to him. And 1 could almost 
imagine I saw the boats on the river laden with soldiers, and 
heard the roar of the distant artillery. 

It is very amusing to see the different country people. 
They are very interesting. There is a lightkeeper who is 
very rich, and yet he does n’t wear shoes. He is Scotch, and 
lived near Burns in his childhood. He quoted poetry oS by 
yards, and it was very interesting to hear him. 

When we arrived at Paducah, there was great excitement 
on the wharf-boat. A colored man had fallen overhead in the 
morning, while drunk, and the people were busy trying to haul 
him up. I could only see one black clenched hand. It was 
enough I ! ! 

We have had the moon nearly every evening. Zelia found in 

her water this morning a small catfish, about so 

long. You know they grow to be six and seven feet in length. 
I am going to keep it, and if anybody finds any more, I ’m 
going to have them too. 

I am very anxious to hear all you are doing at Plymouth, so 
write soon and tell me all about it. Your chickens all seemed 
very happy when I left home. I played dolls some, after you 
left, out under the trees. *1 had two starch boxes for the 
house, and moved out lots of furniture, and pretended they 
were camping out. I called the camp “ The Maples.” And 
I made Emily DeVere two of the sweetest dresses. 


A Few Letters. 205 

I wish to mail this letter at Evansville, and we are nearly 
there now, so I must close. Write soon. 

Ever your loving friend, 

Irene Brownell. 

“What a perfectly splendid time she is having,’’ 
said Amy, when she had read this letter with the 
deepest interest. “ It ’s almost equal to being on an 
island.” 

In Irene’s letter were enclosed two little ones, in 
tiny envelopes made by Irene herself, for two of 
Amy’s dolls, for their dolls were carrying on as active 
a correspondence this summer as their mammas. One 
was addressed to “Lady Clinton,” the other to “Lady 
Spirendoff, Care of Count Spirendoff, Billington Sea.” 

Lady Clinton’s letter proved to be from the bride 
who had figured at the last wedding in the attic, 
Blanche Deloraine Stevenson, and told what a delight- 
ful summer the newly wedded pair were having at 
“The Maples.” The other was from the bride’s 
mother, Madame Marguerite Vanderbird Deloraine, 
and assured Lady Spirendoff, “ I cannot tell you how 
much we miss your society,” and in conclusion 
stated, — 

“ Our address is ‘ The Maples,’ Whitefield, N. H. 
We are ten miles from any village, and are simply 
camping out and having fun.” 

Both these letters were certainly enjoyed by Amy, 
and probably by Ladies Clinton and Spirendoff, as 
they might have been seen standing bolt upright on 
the lower shelf of the washstand in Mrs. Strong’s 
room, stiffly holding these letters in their china 
hands, by day and night, for several days. 


206 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

Kitty, as has been hinted, was more fond of active 
play than of reading and writing. Her letter, though 
the shortest of the three, was quite to the point. 

New Carlisle, Ohio, Aug. 8th. 

My dear Amy, — I received your letter just as I came back 
from horseback-riding last Wednesday evening. Mollie 
Foster was on the saddle, and I behind her right on the back- 
bone of the horse, with my feet hanging down. I was so stiff 
I could hardly walk after we were through riding. I was 
rather mad when 1 did not get an answer from you. I thought 
I would never write to you again, and I would make you wait 
as long as I have waited, but I changed my mind. I will for- 
give you for not writing sooner this time. Let us write to 
each other often, we are such dear friends. I will write on 
Thursdays, and you will answer on Sunday, and in that way 
we will hear from each other often. Yesterday I received a 
letter from Frida Goldschmidt. She says that she is taking 
swimming lessons in the Ohio River. 

The other day Mr. Howard had sheep’s wool packed in 
large sacks. Albert Reiser, Peter Poor, Eddie Grover, Mollie 
Foster, Bessie Willis, Rob and I played tag on the sacks, and 
had lots of fun. Then Mollie and Bessie and I washed their 
pony. We had lots of fun doing it, as she did n’t mind it at 
all. That evening we rode her. That is the evening I was 
sitting on the backbone. I am lame yet from that ride. 

I had a letter from Irene last week. She says Billy, Dr. 
Trimble’s dog, was poisoned and died. Irene was going away 
for a two weeks’ trip on her father’s steamer. I am taking 
a play from a story. When I get it copied, I will send it to 
you to see if it is all right. The other day I held a dollar in 

my hand that was made in the year 1767 ! Just 

think of that! Four of us are going out to visit a lady who 
invited us to a “ Grape Feast.” Mollie Foster in the saddle, 
Rob behind her, Bessie Willis on the side-saddle, and I 
behind her. That ’s the way we are going to ride out to the 
place. 


A Few Letters, 


207 


I must tell you about our picnic last week. We had a lovely 
time. I will tell you what we had to eat. Eight cakes (we 
ate seven of them for dinner, and saved one for supper), six 
glasses of jelly, three different kinds of ham, eggs pickled, hard- 
boiled, and stuffed. Then we had about a hundred different 
kinds of sandwiches, and pickles, pickled cauliflower, chow 
chow, jam, and everything you could imagine to eat. There 
was not a thing left when we came home. There were four- 
teen of us children, and four grown people to take care of us. 
We had a lovely time. There were some campers there. 
They were very pleasant. 

I have so much to say to you that I do not know where to 
stop. But I must stop now, for dinner is about ready, and the 
hungry bears are waiting ready for it. Write soon, very 
soon. 

Your most loving friend, 

Kitty Clover. 

Eob enclosed a short note in his sister’s letter. 

Dear Amy, — I like it up here first rate. We have lots of 
fun doing things. We ride on our bicycles everywhere about. 
What kind of a Roman candle is it that you stick in the 
ground, and you light it, and it whistles? Well, we had 
a lawn fete here, and we had some of those, and other fire- 
works, and I had lots of fun, sending them up phizzing. We 
went to a picnic last week with eight cakes, and they were all 
eaten up. 

What do you think about me driving a cow ? I get fifty 
cents a month, and must get up every morning at six to go. I 
have not stopped yet, but am awful sleepy sometimes. I am 
saving up my money, for the circus is coming, and all the boys 
are going. Ain 't you glad it is a long time till school 
begins? I know I am. Well, good-by. 

Your true friend, 


Rob Clover. 


208 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

When Mr. Howard’s pears are ripe, we can eat all we can. 
I am going fishing to-morrow. 

I guess Kitty aud Kob are having as much fun as 
anybody/^ said Amy, after finishing these letters. 

I don’t doubt it,” said her mother. 

Laura’s fat letter was saved to the last. It was 
dated, 

Weller’s Grove, Stone Lake, La Porte Ind,, Aug. 8th. 

My dear, sweet Sister Amy, — We did not start Friday 
as we expected, but waited until Monday. We said good-by 
to our darling kittens and cat, and Mr. Dwight (the man who 
is going to be in our house while we are away), and rode down 
town in the carriage with Kate (our horse) ; Uncle Alfred has 
her for the summer. When we got into the train it was 
about eight o’clock. We rode, and rode, and on both sides, 
after we got into Indiana, we saw field after field of wheat 
bundled up in sheaves, and field after field of corn, and a great 
many fields of oats. The fields of oats looked so soft and 
lovely, I just longed to jump into them. I got so tired of 
seeing the fields of wheat, wheat, wheat, and wheat. There 
was more wheat than anything else. 

We reached Indianapolis about noon, and had our lunch 
there. Then we walked over and saw the State House, but 
did not have time to go inside. Oh, it was so hot in Indiana- 
polis ! All the way to La Porte Ave saw Avheat, corn, and oats. 
When we finally reached La Porte we took a carriage and 
rode and rode till we came to Weller’s Grove, We have 
rooms in a cottage. The boarders are mostly in the cottages. 
The dining-room and parlors are in the hotel. 

The first morning, I was just coming down the steps of the 
hotel porch, when a lady who had been talking to mamma 
asked me if I knew any of the children. I answered No. So 
she took me and introdueed me to her son, Willie Archer, and 
to another boy, Frank Richards, and a girl, Fanny Frazier. 
I don’t like Frank at all, but Willie is just lovely ! Fanny 


A Few Letters. 209 

took me down to see the lake, for you know we are right on 
Stone Lake. 

In the afternoon we all went in bathing, papa and Mr. 
Archer (he is a minister), Fanny, Maggie, and I. Maggie 
is a real nice little girl that Fanny introduced me to. She sits 
at our table. Papa gave us a lesson in swimming, and it was 
more fun ! We stayed in twenty minutes. Mamma sat on 
the shore with Violet, and told us when the twenty minutes 
were up. When we were all dressed, mamma, papa, and 
Violet sat in the shade of the trees, while Lansing and I took 
a short row near the shore. 

The other night we danced in the pavilion, and had lots of 
fun. The pavilion is a floor roofed over, with canvas curtains 
hung up around the edges. There are seats, and camp chairs, 
and a piano there. I dance with Maggie more than anybody 
else. Every Friday night they have some entertainment. 

Willie Archer is a very nice little boy. I like him ever so 
much ! I don’t know how old he is, but he is about my size. 
He just loves little babies, and is so sweet to them. He will 
take one up in his arms even in front of lots of other boys, and 
hug it. The babies love him 1 He is always ready to ‘ lend a 
hand ’ to everybody and anybody. I don’t know how many 
times I have seen him get up and give his seat to a girl. 

Oh! we will have lots of fun to-night dancing. 1! just! 
love ! to ! dance ! ! 

To-day a snake ran right over a boy’s foot when he was 
walking in the grass. It was killed and I saw it ! There is a 
lovely rope swing here, and a croquet set. You must be hav- 
ing a lovely time. Please write soon, and tell me about your 
trip, and all you ’ve been doing, just as I have done. Good-by, 
my dear sister, with love, from 

Laura. 

P. S. The other day we took a ride on a little steamer 
called the “Emerald.” We rode over into Pine Lake (right 
near Stone Lake), through a channel under a dear little 

14 


210 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

bridge. We had a lovely time. This morning we took a 
drive. We had a span of horses, and papa drove. We came 
to a graveyard, and while the rest went in to see it, I stopped 
outside the fence to pick daisies. They grew wild all along 
the road, and on the other side the fence there were, oh ! 
ever so many ! The field was just white with them. I picked 
a great bunch. We stopped at another place to gather lots of 
wild roses, and I trimmed the horses up with pear leaves 
(they were so shiny and pretty) and little bits of daisies. But 
they would persist in pulling them off each other and eating 
them. We got a small willow branch and made a whistle. 
We came home loaded with flowers, and quite jolly. 

I will write again when I get up to Michigan. I am 
very anxious to see our cottage. Only think, yesterday I 
missed my Brightside Club badge, and could not find it any- 
where 1 Mamma found it in the bath-house. I am so glad ! 
But mercy ! I forgot this was only a postcript ! So good-by 
again. I will see you to-night in Our Land. 

P. S. No. 2. As we go to Michigan next week, address me 
at Bellevue, Charlevoix, Michigan. I should have answered 
your letter sooner, but I have been so busy storekeeping ! ! I 
will tell you what I mean by storekeeping. Some children here 
got up a store in which they sold stones for pins. They had 
a way of polishing them, but would not tell how. They also 
sold colored water, but would not tell how they made it. They 
had yellow, blue, and red water (a lovely yellow !). A great 
many children have taken it up, and so did I, and that ’s what 
I meant by storekeeping. I long to see you. — But I must really 
stop now. 

From your loving twin-sister. 

In Laura’s letter was enclosed a small package, in- 
scribed, “Look in this after you’ve read the letter.” 
In it Amy found, carefully done up, a pressed ox-eye 
daisy. 

“Well, that is a letter,” said Amy, with a sigh of 


A Few Letters. 


211 


satisfaction, as she folded Laura’s voluminous pages. 
“ Hearing from the girls almost makes me in a hurry 
to go home, we do have so much fun together.” 

She denied herself the joys of wading and rowing 
to write suitable replies to the girls, letters wherein 
the water-snake figured fully as large as life. They 
were illustrated by many sketches of Amy wading or 
rowing, and contained photographs of the pond and 
cottage, taken by the dollar camera. 


212 


A Jolly Crood Summer. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A RAINY BIRTHDAY. 

I T was felt to be pleasant that Professor Strong’s 
birthday should happen to come when so many 
of his family were together on the pleasant island. 
Amy, alwaj^s enthusiastic about birthdays, was full 
of plans to celebrate the day, and rose early to go 
for flowers to decorate the breakfast-table. Alas, it 
was raining, a melancholy drizzle, drizzle. But Amy 
had lived a wildwood life long enough not to be dis- 
mayed at a little rain; she put on her bathing-suit 
and rubber boots, and quietly slipped downstairs and 
out doors. There was a delightful sense of freedom 
in rambling through the woods, feeling that she need 
not think of her clothes, but was, for the time, a 
part of nature, — one with the birds and the wet 
boughs swaying in the northeast wind. The woods 
were dark and cool, and full of damp odors of fallen 
leaves and wet ferns, and from the covert of pine 
and hemlock the birds sang rejoicingly. 

didn’t know a rainy day could be so pleasant,” 
thought Amy. She found a few late lingering wild 
roses and elder-berry blooms along the shore, and 
on the point just beyond the Cove were some new 
flowers coming into bloom, blossoms that were strange 
to her. When her father sat down to breakfast, he 


213 


A Rainy Birthday. 

was surprised to find a really beautiful bouquet 
blooming beside his plate, a loving tribute from his 
little daughter that pleased him much. 

‘‘Amy looks as blooming as a wild rose herself, 
after her ramble in the rain,” said Philip. 

“ I am afraid I should not have consented to let 
you go out in the rain, had I been consulted, Amy,” 
said her mother. 

“You were fast asleep, mamma, and I did not want 
to disturb you,” said Amy. “I fixed myself so it did 
not do me a bit of harm. I was determined to have 
some fiowers for papa’s birthday. I found out some- 
thing I never knew before. A rainy day is the 
pleasantest time in the woods. I want to go again 
after breakfast.” 

“We have learned since we came here to pay no 
attention to the weather,” said Philip. “We go out, 
rain or shine, and I believe that is the healthiest 
way.” 

“ This island lies so high, and its soil is so rocky 
and sandy,” said G-ladys, “that it is never muddy. 
It is dry as soon as the rain stops.” 

After breakfast the whole party in fact, suitably 
dressed in short dresses and waterproofs, took to the 
woods, and rambled about at will, agreeing with 
Amy on the pleasantness of a rainy day in the 
woods. From the farther end of the island the sound 
of chopping drew Mrs. Strong in that direction. She 
found her husband, in his working-suit, valiantly 
attacking a huge dead tree doomed to firewood, while 
Philip was cutting to pieces another felled the day 
before. 

“Daniel, you are a second Gladstone,” said Mrs, 
Strong. 


214 


A Jolly Good Summer* 

The Professor smiled, swung his axe aloft for 
another sturdy blow, and said, — 

“I find I haven’t forgotten how to handle an axe. 
I don’t see but that I can chop as well as I did forty 
years ago.” 

Amy, who was breaking off dead branches laden 
with long gray moss from an old tree near by, to 
ornament the parlor, said, — 

“Papa, you oughtn’t to work so hard on your 
birthday. What you do on your birthday is a sign 
of what you will do all that year.” 

“I ask nothing better than work,” said her father. 

Mrs. Strong rambled on to find Gladys and Sue in 
the pine grove. The northeast wind blew white fog 
in drifts across the pond and along the woodside, 
giving the familiar scene a strange, wild look. The 
water was cold and gray, blown by the wind in long 
waves that broke grandly on the beach on the stormy 
side of the island. But on the lee side, the water 
lay quiet and still; and in the pine grove’s shelter 
the air was warm, the drizzling rain scarcely pene- 
trated, and the odor of wet pine needles was 
delightful. 

Mrs. Strong drew in long, deep breaths of this 
aromatic air. 

“ How like the very quintessence of Massachusetts 
this air is!” she said. “I only wish I could take 
some of it home to Ohio.” 

“Pine air is very good for the voice,” said Gladys. 
“Philip has promised to make me a couch out here 
in the pine grove , because he thinks it will do me good 
to take my naps out here.” 

“We shall get, by and by, so we shall not want to 


A Rainy Birthday. 215 

stay in the house at all,” said Sue. “I really dread 
going back to the city.” 

“We shut ourselves up in houses too much,” said 
Mrs. Strong. 

But this enthusiasm for out-door life abated in the 
afternoon, when the nor’easter, which had only been 
trifling so far, now set out to show its power in 
earnest. The rain drove in white sheets that hid the 
opposite shores, and beat violently against the frail 
summer cottage. The cottage, dry from a long 
drought, developed leaks in the most unexpected 
places. There was a great running about with tubs, 
pails, and washbowls to catch the drippings through 
the leaks which threatened to deluge even the beds. 

The Professor, stretched on a sea-chair in the 
parlor, read library books and day before yesterday’s 
“Boston Advertiser.” Philip went fishing. Mrs. 
Strong, in her own room, as the rain pounded on the 
roof over her head, and dripped into the washbowl 
on her bed, wrote an “adjective story” for the grand 
celebration of her husband’s birthday, to come in the 
evening. 

In the adjoining room, through the thin partition, 
she could hear the happy voices of Gladys, Sue, and 
Amy, chattering gaily. Gladys and Sue had turned 
themselves into children for the nonce, and were 
helping Amy dress her china dolls in unspeakable 
magnificence, in preparation for a grand court recep- 
tion soon to be given. These august doings were 
evidently much retarded by Betty’s determination to 
be in the midst of it all, she getting on the very 
choicest materials on the bed, even the Countess 
Composilici’s court train. 


216 


A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

^‘Naughty!” said Gladyses voice, with what was 
meant for terrifying sternness; “How often have I 
told you you must not lie on that velvet ? I will put 
you out.’’ 

The door opened, and the small culprit was dumped 
in the hall outside. Her ears hung down with dis- 
content until, spying Mrs. Strong, she took refuge 
on her dress, and went fast asleep. 

As the rainy day darkened early into night, suffi- 
cient dampness penetrated the cottage to convince 
Philip that it was best to make a fire in the great 
brick fireplace built across one corner of the parlor. 
This being the first time a fire had been needed , it 
was a pleasant event. The bushes and branches that 
decorated the fireplace were cleared away, and soon a 
bright fire of logs and big sticks, the fruits of Philip’s 
and his father’s industry, was blazing cheerfully, 
transforming the parlor with its ruddy glow. 

Chloe, in honor of the birthday, had prepared 
unexpected dainties for supper, and made some ice- 
cream, which Philip had frozen, aided towards the 
last by Amy and Gladys. 

“We wait till the ice-cream is nearly frozen,” Amy 
confided to her mother, “and then we go and offer to 
help Philip, because then he has to scrape it down, 
and it is tasting time.” 

After supper, the little company gathered around 
their open fire, ready for the pleasures of the even- 
ing. A piano being absolutely necessary to Gladys 
and Philip, one had been hired in Plymouth, and, 
not without some misgivings on its owner’s part, 
taken across to the island by placing two of its legs 
in one boat, two in another, and thus rowing it over. 


217 


A Rainy Birthday, 

The parlor was not unlike a ship’s cabin. It was 
fitted up with lockers and cupboards in all sorts of 
nooks and unlooked for places, and in the corner 
opposite the fireplace an open stairway ascended to 
the upper deck, so to speak. Gladys had brightened 
its unplastered walls with Japanese banners, scarfs, 
and hangings. But against the uncurtained windows 
the storm beat wildly, and through them the ruddy 
light of the warm, cosy interior streamed out into 
the dark night. 

The evening’s entertainment opened with the read- 
ing of Mrs. Strong’s adjective story. An adjective 
story being written solely for a bit of amusement, 
many local allusions are introduced, and especially 
the names of the persons who are to hear it read. 
Blanks are left to insert numerous adjectives and 
adverbs. The audience, who are in ignorance of the 
story, are requested to furnish adjectives in turn, 
which the author writes down impartially, just as 
they come. 

When Mrs. Strong called for adjectives, Amy gave 
‘^horrible,” Sue, “sweet,” Philip, “good,” Gladys, 
“fascinating,” Professor Strong, “venerable,” Amy, 
“bow-legged,” Sue, “terrific,” and so on, Mrs. Strong 
inserting them as given, with an occasional smile 
that caused Amy to say, — 

“Mamma is having all the fun to herself.” 

“I am ready now to share it with the rest of you,” 
said her mother. 

Philip had several times reported seeing a huge tur- 
tle in the pond, which he had tried in vain to capture. 
The wily old fellow always managed to elude him. 
Each time Philip saw this turtle, he seemed to in- 


218 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

crease in size, at least in Philip’s descriptions, until 
the cottagers affected to regard him as a rival to the 
sea serpent. 

A portion of Mrs. Strong’s adjective story is here 
given, the words furnished by her audience being 
italicized. It was called, — 

«THE HORRIBLE FISHERMAN OF BILLINGTON SEA. 

A TALE OP WHAT DID NOT HAPPEN. 

“ In the sweet town of Plymouth lies the good pond 
known as Billington Sea. Out in its fascinating 
depths is a venerable island, destined to be here- 
after famous, owing to the bow-legged party who, 

during the terrific summer of , occupied the rare 

residence that crowns the island’s pigeon-toed heights. 
Here in the sunny month of August, were meri'ily 
assembled the sarcastic Professor Strong, his beauti- 
ful wife, the grateful singer and charming soprano, 
Madame Gladys Van Dyke Strong, her cross-eyed 
sister, the oesthetic Sue Van Dyke, her terrible hus- 
band, the spiteful baritone, Philip Strong, her sensi- 
tive sister-in-law, the grand poetess, Amy Strong, 
and her cork-legged pug, the angry Bettina Puggins. 
Last, but far from least, the spindle-shanked cook, 
Chloe Jackson, was the lovely rock and Titian-hued 
foundation on which rested the happiness of this 
bewitching party. The anxious Williamses far away 
were forgotten, and the excruciating Strongs and 
carboniferous Van Dykes ruled hardly over the ethereal 
island. 

“One golden morning the two inferior Mr. Strongs 
resolved to gingerly go a-fishing. They scarcely 


219 


A Rainy Birthday, 

rowed to the amhitious Cove. On its 'proud shore sat 
the two long artists, making explosive sketches of the 
haughty landscape. At the superlative cottage, the 
blue Gladys was practising an extreme song, while 
princely Betty sat howling on the spirited pier, and 
Amy, with her spirituelle feet much in evidence, was 
delicately wading in the pungent pond. Professor 
Strong threw in his constant line, and soon easily 
drew out a pink perch, while his fat son generously 
landed a serene catfish. As they were enjoying 
themselves in this fiendish manner, suddenly the 
faint boat tipped demurely. Startled, the contiguous 
fishermen looked tastefully around, and Philip cried 
sensitively, — 

“ ‘ fascinating turtle is upon us! ’ 

“This tragic monster of the authentic Billington 
deep successfully reared his serpentine form from the 
perfect water, reaching his green claw for the amazing 
fishermen who were so roguishly emptying the charac- 
teristic pond of its dim denizens. With a brown 
shriek, they raised the truthful oars, and fought 
quickly for their graceful lives. 

“ Mildewed screams from the sour artists drew large 
Gladys, sad Amy, and affectionate Betty to the mild 
spot. Softly did the pensive Betty plunge into the 
sharp water, seize the crazy monster by the careful 
tail, and drag him grumbling on shore, where the 
astounding Amy grasped him, and held him, while 
skinny Gladys awkwardly killed him with Mrs. 
Strong’s knock-kneed penknife. Chloe, the freckled 
cook , made a superb soup from this handsome turtle. ” 

Afterwards, details were given of a shining recep- 
tion and fiendish musicale,” given to celebrate this 


220 


A Jolly Crood Summer. 

victory, where the jolly piano was at its thickest j as 
the amphibious ladies entered the insidious salon, led 
by Madame Van Dyke Strong, her best eyes flashing 
mutinously?^ 

It takes but little to amuse people who are ready 
to be pleased, so this adjective story caused much 
laughter and fun. Then, reversing the usual order, 
they passed from the ridiculous to the sublime, under 
the spell of the duet from “The Star of the North,” 
magnificently sung by Gladys and Philip. Then 
Gladys sang an aria from “Dinorah.” 

The unplastered boards of the cottage rang with 
the exquisite melody that had enraptured Paris salons. 
The beautiful singer, who had entranced great audi- 
ences all over the country by the magic of her voice 
and her rare personal charm, was never more fas- 
cinating than now when, for love’s sake only, she 
threw her whole soul into this singing for a handful 
of folk in the simple cottage. Professor Strong might 
well feel that “his birthday was receiving royal 
celebration.” 

Then Philip sang a solo from the “Elijah,” and 
afterwards, at Amy’s especial request, what she 
called “the laughing song,” the Mephistopheles solo, 
from Faust. Then he asked Gladys to sing a Nor- 
wegian song, a wild yet plaintive melody, that fitted 
well the words. 

“ Play on, play on ; 

Father ’s gone a sailing, 

Where the wind is wailing. 

Play on, play on. 

Soon will he be homing, 

Thro’ the tender gloaming. 

Unto the shore. 


221 


A Rainy Birthday, 

“ My heart is full of yearning 

For one who cometh not again, 

Gone, beyond returning, — 

One who cometh never more. 

Never more ! never more ! 

Play! 

** He is gone so far, 

Past the western star ; 

Ah, in yon quiet shade, 

Where the dead are laid. 

Green graves there are.” 

Amy was charmed with this song. The idea as 
well as the melody struck her fancy, and often, 
when she was wading or sailing boats, her childish 
voice was heard singing, — 

" He is gone so far. 

Past the western star.” 

Within the cottage the blazing lamp, the music, 
and the home love filled the room with warmth, 
cheer, and brightness. Without, all was dark, wild, 
stormy. In the pause of the music a sudden sound 
was heard outside. 

“Some one ^s coming,” said Amy; “I heard a 
step.” 

“ It was only a blind or a loose board rattling in 
the wind, Amy,” said Philip. “You forget that no 
one can come.” 

“It is hard to realize,” said Mrs. Strong, “that we 
are the one little spot of civilization and brightness 
here, that all around us are only the lonely woods, 
the dark water, the driving storm.” 

Amy drew her chair closer into the circle around 


222 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

the fire, and looked timidly at the black windows, 
dripping with raindrops. 

But now Gladys and Philip, coming down from 
high art, indulged in a half-hour ’s musical nonsense. 
Gladys took her violin, and Philip his guitar, and 
they sang and played all sorts of college songs and 
negro melodies, until Chloe, who was sitting with 
her kitchen door open to enjoy the concert, was hardly 
able to sit still in her chair, and her deep contralto 
was sometimes heard from afar joining in the 
choruses. 

The funniest of all was Philip’s song, — 

“ Possum meat am good to eat, 

Carve ’m to de heart ! 

Chorus : 

Carve dat possum, chilleu, 

Carve dat possum, chillen, 

Ke-yarve dat possum. 

Carve ’m to de heart ! ” 

At the “carve” in the last line, Gladys ran her 
bow up the strings with a blood-curding realism 
that brought a prolonged howl of anguish from 
Betty, peacefully snoozing in Amy’s lap. With all 
her musical advantages, evidently Betty was no 
Wagnerite. 

So the Professor was merrily launched on another 
year. 

When bedtime came, Amy clutched her mother’s 
gown and kept close to her as they crossed the wind- 
swept porch, amid the dense darkness of the night, 
to the dining-room, to get their lamp. The cottage 
doors were never fastened by day or night, in fact, 
generally stood open; and it was no uncommon thing 


223 


A Rainy Birthday, 

to find a toad hopping around the dining-room in the 
early morning, in pursuit of flies or crumbs, he evi- 
dently considering the cottage a part of the woods, 
as indeed it was. Amy’s imagination was comforted 
by having a large Saratoga trunk rolled against her 
bedroom door, and she felt her father’s arrival a 
powerful reinforcement to their half of the cottage. 


224 


A Jolly Good Summer* 


( 


CHAPTER XVII, 


SOME VISITS. 


HE storm lasted two or three days, and was 



1 followed by a clear, cool morning, the sky a 
deep blue, and the pond a mirror, in whose clear sur- 
face woods and shore lay simply doubled. 

While the family were at breakfast, a strange noise 
resounded, seemingly overhead : “Konk! Konk!” 

All ran out on the porch to see a flock of wild-geese 
flying over, southward bound. 

“Fall has come,” said Professor Strong. “I 
thought I detected a suspicion of autumn in the air 
this morning. You cannot deceive the wild birds.” 

“I begin to feel that it is time we, too, were flying 
home, like the birds,” said Mrs. Strong. 

After breakfast, Amy asked, — 

“ What are those black things floating about down 
at the other end of the pond? ” 

“I declare,” said Philip, “they are ducks, I 
believe.” 

Opera glasses being brought to bear, several ducks 
were plainly seen riding at ease afar on the pond. 
All a sportsman’s enthusiasm woke in Philip at the 
sight, and he paddled off cautiously in his canoe 
towards them, but was soon seen to turn back. 

“They are only decoy ducks,” he reported, in 
disgust. 


Some Visits. 


225 


Later it appeared that these sham ducks, which 
looked so wonderfully natural, belonged to the old 
gentleman with the braided locks, and had been put 
on the pond by him to tempt wild ducks to alight to 
their destruction. 

Although it was still August, all signs pointed 
towards autumn. Letters began to thicken upon 
Gladys with offers for the coming season, plans had 
to be discussed and decided, and the outside world 
of care, work, and worry, began to press in upon the 
happy island. It was evidently time to “take up 
the burden of life again,” and the Strongs prepared 
to depart. 

Amy’s feeling was divided. She looked forward 
eagerly to being once more at home on her beloved 
Hillside Avenue, with all her dear little friends, and 
yet it was hard to say good-by to the island, where 
she might never come again. 

As Philip rowed them across the familiar pond 
to the steps for the last time, Amy suddenly 
exclaimed, — 

“ I never want to come to Plymouth again ! ” 

“Why, Amy,” said her mother, “I am surprised! 
I thought you had enjoyed being here so much.” 

“That is the very reason,” said Amy; “I never 
could bear to see any one else living on our island.” 

“I confess to something of the same feeling,” said 
her mother. “But, after all, in one way it always 
will be ‘ our island; ’ nothing can deprive us of the 
bright memories of our happy summer here. We 
must be glad that we have had it, rather than mourn 
because we can have it no more.” 

The Strongs stopped for a day and night on the 
15 


226 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

way to Brookline with the Coney^s, in Milton. Mrs. 
Coney and Mrs. Strong had been girls together, and 
had always kept up the old friendship. There had 
been a large flock of little Coneys, but they were 
now growing up, and scattering out into the world, 
as young folks must. Two of the older boys were 
still at home, and Amy’s especial comrades, Russell, 
a year older than herself, Ethel, almost exactly her 
age, and Bradford, a year younger. 

They had always been very fond of Amy. When 
they were all little, on her visits trouble used to 
arise by all three wishing to lead her about at once ; 
and as Amy unfortunately had but two hands, it was 
sometimes hard to settle the trouble amicably. They 
now welcomed her warmly, and no time was lost in 
setting off for a ramble all over the place, to show 
Amy the changes and improvements since her last 
visit. 

Mr. Coney’s place, although within the limits of 
Boston, was really a large farm, divided into fertile 
meadow, orchard, pasture, and wooded hill. The 
children led Amy a flne chase through the woods, 
where they gathered many wild-flowers. Then they 
came around to the vineyard, where some of the early 
varieties of grapes were beginning to ripen, as the 
children well knew. Their father, who was escorting 
the Strongs over the place, picked carefully-selected 
bunches of the ripest for them all, — bunches so large 
that Amy’s small hand could hardly hold hers. 

The children climbed with their grapes on top an 
immense boulder on the hillside in the woods, as 
large as a small house. Steps were built on one side, 
or it would have been impossible to ascend it. Over 


Some Visits. 


227 


it swept the great branches of a huge oak, almost 
touching the seat where the children sat at their 
ease, chatting as they ate their grapes. Through a 
gap in tlie branches was a charming glimpse of green 
meadows, and the shining waters of the Neponset 
Eiver. 

“We will go rowing after dinner to-night,” said 
Russell. “You know our pasture runs down to the 
Neponset, and we keep a boat there.” 

“I shall like that so much,” said Amy. “I can 
row a boat myself now, and I do love to be on the 
water. Oh, Ethel, see those cunning squirrels! ” 

On a small rock below them two large squirrels 
were sitting, attracted by the unripe grapes the chil- 
dren were throwing down. They sat up on their 
hind-legs, their bushy tails jauntily aloft, holding 
the grapes in their fore-paws, and nibbling daintily 
at them, their bright, restless eyes keeping a sharp 
lookout for danger. 

“Those squirrels are old acquaintances of ours,” 
said Ethel. “They are very tame, and never seem 
the least afraid of us.” 

“ But the old fellows are very careful not to let us 
catch them, all the same,” said Russell. 

“They are too wise,” said Bradford, whose eyes 
were as soft and bright and black as the squirrels’. 

“ Come down to the grove, Amy, and swing, ” said 
Ethel. 

A grove of majestic oaks lay at the foot of the 
wooded hill back of the house. One could not enter 
it without a thrill of admiration, almost veneration. 
Straight up went the huge trunks, perhaps thirty 
feet without a limb, like the pillars of a temple. The 


228 A Jolly Grood Summer, 

shining leaves overhead were the templets roof, and 
beneath, the foot sunk silently into velvety green 
sward. 

At one end of this grove a large swing was hung, 
something like a sleigh-box, with two seats, so that 
four persons could swing at once. 

Mr. and Mrs. Coney and the Strongs entered the 
grove as the children did. The gentlemen seated 
themselves to discuss the affairs of the nation, while 
the ladies went down to the swing to watch the 
children. 

Burton, one of the older boys, met them, carrying 
something in his hand, which, on nearer approach, 
proved to be a live snake about two feet long. 
Burton held the snake by the back of his neck, the 
snake writhing and throwing himself about _m vain 
efforts to escape. 

Mr. Coney’s children were trained to regard all 
living creatures with intelligent interest, as objects 
of study and investigation. Mr. Coney would have 
been disgusted indeed had one of his daughters 
screamed at a mouse or spider, or run from a snake. 
Burton’s snake was, in his eyes, a rare ‘‘specimen,” 
and politeness prompted him to present this treasure 
to their guest. 

“Mrs. Strong,” he said, advancing with his gift, 
“do you care for snakes?” 

Mrs. Strong’s theory agreed precisely with Mr. 
Coney’s, and she had tried to teach Amy that all 
living creatures are our humbler cousins. Not for 
anything would she have seemed to fear the snake; 
but she made haste to say, before Burton came too 
near, — 


Some Visits, 


229 


“Not very much, thank you, Burton.” 

Amy shrank a little behind her mother, but did 
not scream or run, while the Coney children took the 
snake as a matter of course, as if Burton had picked 
a fine rose and offered it to Mrs. Strong. Burton, 
disappointed, departed to find more sympathetic 
admirers of his treasure, and the four children swung 
merrily on under the great oaks, until the luncheon 
bell rang. 

After luncheon they all went driving, Amy, Ethel, 
and Bradford on the back seat of the open beach- 
wagon. The back seat was very gay with much 
giggling, laughter, and chat. Bradford’s black eyes 
shone with mischief, and he was full of pranks that 
kept the girls laughing, and his mother looking 
around to see that the fun did not grow too wild. 

Meantime, the beach-wagon rolled on, now over 
heights where they had wide views of Dorchester 
Bay, blue to-day under the blue sky; now along the 
meadows beside the Neponset, where the Blue Hills 
of Milton loomed grandly up above them. 

After their return, Ethel showed Amy all the 
cunning tricks she had taught her bright dog, Caesar, 
which made Amy want a dog of her own more than 
ever. Burton took them rowing in the sunset up the 
beautiful Neponset. In the evening the children 
played games in the library. All too soon came bed- 
time; then morning, and good-by, after a happy visit 
full of pleasures Amy would long remember. 

Her regret at leaving the Coneys was forgotten in 
the joy of reaching Sydney’s, and being once more 
with her little nieces, who were at first disposed 
to affect shyness, but were soon as fond as ever of 


230 A Jolly Good Summer. 

their young aunt. Amy enjoyed her nieces so much, 
and was so happy with her sister Faith, who was all 
kindness to her little sister, even making Violet a 
lovely white silk dress, and giving her a bridal veil 
of mosquito netting, that she implored to be left 
behind when her parents proposed to spend a day 
and night at her Uncle Edward’s. Uncle Edward 
and family had spent the last few summers at Nahant, 
and here the Strongs were asked to visit them. 

Uncle Edward was her father’s youngest brother. 
Amy had not seen him or his family since she was 
old enough to remember them. Worst of all, there 
were three strange boy cousins to be encountered. 
This was a terrible ordeal for the shy Amy, and she 
begged to be left behind. 

“I don’t want to go to Nahant, mamma,” pleaded 
Amy; don’t care anything about it. I would 
much rather stay here and play with my nieces. 
Before long we shall go back to Cincinnati, and I 
don’t know when I shall see them, again. And Faith 
is going to make Violet a new fall dress. Please let 
me stay here with Faith.” 

“No, I want you to go,” said her mother. “You 
would regret it afterwards, I am sure, if you did 
not.” 

It was a bright and lovely morning when the 
Strongs left the cars at Lynn. Most hospitable was 
their welcome, tor they stepped from the train almost 
into the arms of tall, strong Uncle Edward, and close 
by him stood Cousin Greta, holding by the hand a 
pretty, plump little boy of six, who looked so shyly 
at Amy that she began to feel quite brave herself. 
Cousin Greta was such a pleasant young lady, and 


Some Visits. 231 

seemed so glad to see them, that Amy felt at ease 
with her at once. 

Uncle Edward packed them into a light covered 
wagonbtte, and they rattled merrily away off through 
the streets of Lynn towards the sea, picking up on 
the way the two older boys, Ned and Allan, and a 
boy friend. Will McDougall. 

“The boys are all absorbed in their cruise, Amy,” 
said Greta. “Father has consented to let Ned go 
on a cruise in our yacht to Mt. Desert, taking Will 
McDougall with him. And Allan has strong hopes 
that he will be allowed to go too.” 

“I am going, Greta,” said Allan, ^‘You needn’t 
speak as if there were any doubt about it.” 

Allan was about Amy’s age, while Ned was fifteen, 
and his friend. Will, seventeen, — a reliable, sensible 
young fellow, whose presence on the trip made Mr. 
Strong feel much safer about Ned. The boys had 
been to Lynn for supplies to provision the yacht for 
her voyage. 

“Mother will have to get those blankets and the 
bread and things all on board to-night, father,” said 
Ned ; “ Captain Black says he shall weigh anchor about 
four to-morrow morning, if the wind sets right.” 

“You need not worry about your mother’s part 
of the cruise,” said his father; “she is sure to be 
prompt.” 

Amy, to her great relief, soon found the two older 
boys to be so full of their cruise that the arrival of 
a girl cousin was in comparison an event too small 
to attract any attention. 

The wagonette rolled into the grounds of a large 
summer “cottage,” so called. There are cottages and 


232 A Jolly Good Summer, 

cottages. In this case the cottage was a large and 
elegantly-appointed house, as great a contrast as 
could be imagined to the rude island cottage, so dear 
to memory. A serious-faced young man in a black 
suit and white tie ran down to open the wagonette 
door. Amy thought he might be a guest, but soon 
learned that he was Thomas, the butler, come to take 
their valises. 

On the long, wide porch stood Aunt Adelaide, 
whose warm welcome made Amy already feel at 
home. A gentleman sitting on the porch reading 
was introduced as Aunt Adelaide’s brother, the Rev. 
Mr. Clarke, from Kansas City. He proved, much 
to Amy’s relief, to be the only guest at the house, 
and, on further acquaintance, a most delightful man, 
fond of children. Mr. Clarke was at once attracted 
by Amy’s refined, intelligent face, and they became 
good friends, and she learned much from ‘‘Uncle 
Robert,” as the boys called him. 

The cottage stood on high ground, ending in bold 
rocks jutting into the sea. Below the rocks, on a 
sandy beach, stood the bathing houses. Great trees 
surrounded the house, and on one side, framed in by 
the elm boughs, was a beautiful outlook up6n the 
wide blue ocean, with Egg Rock Island and its light- 
house in the centre. 

After luncheon, Greta asked their guests to go out 
and inspect the wonderful yacht, about which the 
boys talked so much. Professor Strong preferred to 
stay on the porch and talk with his brother, and 
Aunt Adelaide was busy preparing the outfit for the 
cruise. Allan and Percy escorted Mrs. Strong, Greta, 
and Amy down to the beach of Lynn Harbor. 


Some Visits. 


233 


“That^s the Sunbeam,” said Allan, pointing off 
across the harbor, where a small yacht rode gracefully 
at anchor. “Is n’t she a beauty? ” 

“How can we get out to her?” asked Amy. 

“The steward is rowing in for us,” said Allan. 
“See, there he comes.” 

A boat with “ Sunbeam ” on its bow , rowed by a 
young man in blue uniform and a gold-banded cap, 
which also bore the word “Sunbeam” on its front, 
now grazed the sand, and the party embarked. 

“It seems like Billington to be in a boat again, 
does n^t it, mamma? ” said Amy. 

“Yes; only Billington boating was rather tamer 
than this,” said her mother. 

The waves were running briskly before a fine 
breeze, and the boat tossed buoyantly up and down 
on them as it sped on towards the yacht. The salt 
breeze was enough to make one hungry, even right 
after luncheon. 

It was quite exciting to climb on board the yacht, 
where the captain stood waiting to receive them. He 
took them down below, and showed them the berths, 
and the skilful way in which the dishes and other 
articles were stowed away, every inch of space being 
economized. Amy was fascinated by these arrange- 
ments, which seemed to her not unlike dolls’ house- 
keeping, and she almost wished she, too, were a boy, 
that she might know the delights of such a trip as 
Ned was to have. 

But the quarters being cramped and close below, 
and the “Sunbeam” tossing about in a lively way, 
Amy soon began to change her mind, and not to feel 
so sure she should enjoy an ocean trip. Greta, noth 


234 


A Jolly Crood Summer, 

cing that she grew pale and quiet, proposed that they 
go on deck. Here they had pleasant seats in the 
shade of a sail drawn part way up the mast, and the 
steward brought them glasses of iced raspberry shrub. 
The fresh breeze revived Amy, and she looked about 
in delight on a scene so novel to her, — the blue, 
sparkling water, the restless waves, the many vessels 
of all sorts and sizes, from large sloops and schooners 
to tiny sailboats, that flitted across the bay tipped 
over slantingly at what seemed to Amy a dangerous 
angle. 

Allan was in close conference with the captain. 

“Is Allan really going on the cruise?” asked 
Amy. 

“No, I am afraid not,” said Greta. “He is a 
delicate child, and mother is afraid to risk him on so 
long a trip. She thinks he is too young. She feels 
anxious about Ned all the time he is out.” 

“But Allan will be sadly disappointed,” said Mrs. 
Strong. 

“I suppose he will,” said Greta. “But where is 
Percy ? ” 

Percy was found enjoying himself greatly, out on 
the very point of the bow, hanging over, dangling a 
string in the water. 

“I^m only fishing, Greta,” he said, when Greta 
insisted on his leaving such a dangerous place. 

Greta found Percy so lively a responsibility on 
shipboard, that she was glad when Mrs. Strong pro- 
posed that they go ashore. 

By this time Percy had discovered that his cousin 
Amy was not dangerous, and was disposed to be very 
friendly. On the beach he helped her gather shells, 


Some Visits. 


235 


to be added to her precious collection stowed away 
in all the chinks and cracks of Mrs. Strong’s trunk. 
Most valuable of all was a large horse-shoe crab, 
picked up on Plymouth beach. So frail was this 
treasure, that it was carefully rolled in tissue paper, 
and packed in the crown of Mrs. Strong’s lace bonnet. 
Then Percy took Amy out to the stable to see tlie 
horses, the cow, and, above all, the pony. 

When Amy went upstairs to dress for dinner, she 
said, — 

“ Oh, mamma, you don’t know what a beautiful little 
pony and cart they have! Do you suppose I shall 
have a chance to drive that pony while we are 
here?” 

Amy was a natural horsewoman , and fond of driv- 
ing whenever she had an opportunity. 

“•I should not wonder,” said her mother. “Aunt 
Adelaide knows what will please children.” 

“Oh, I do hope I can,” said Amy. “I long to 
drive that dear cunning little pony. He is so pretty 
and gentle, — as gentle as a kitten, or as my bantams 
at home.” 

Towards night, when the sun was low, they were 
taken driving. Professor Strong and his wife, Aunt 
Adelaide, Greta, and Percy went in the open carriage, 
a “barouche landau,” in which they luxuriously “ex- 
plored” Nahant in a manner to have satisfied even 
Mrs. Elton. 

“My brother is going for the mail with the pony 
and cart, a little later,” Aunt Adelaide explained, 
“and he wants to take Amy with him. He thinks 
Amy will enjoy the pony.” 

Amy gave her mother a radiant smile, and her 


236 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

mother smiled back almost as radiantly, pleased with 
her little girPs pleasure. 

Nahant was beautiful that day, as indeed she is 
all days. The perfect roads overhung by noble old 
trees, under whose checkered shade bowled along 
handsome equipages; the beautiful homes overlook- 
ing the sea; above all, the wide expanse of the all- 
surrounding blue ocean, dashing up in white foam 
at the base of the great red-brown rocks ; these made 
pictures not easily to be forgotten by the Cincinna- 
tians , who must soon turn their backs on the ocean , 
and journey almost a thousand miles away. Mrs. 
Strong’s pleasure was increased by the thought, 
“How happy Amy is now, no doubt.” 

And presently she had a glimpse of Amy’s happi- 
ness. As they were going up a hill, around a turn 
at the top came the brown pony trotting sturdily on, 
Amy all smiles, and Uncle .Robert waving his hand 
as they passed. They looked like two comrades well 
satisfied with each other. Amy, with her flowing 
golden hair under the jaunty hat, with a pink glow 
on her cheeks, and her blue eyes shining with delight, 
coming down the hill with the radiance of the bright 
western sky for a background, made a picture that 
her mother would long treasure in her heart. 

But, afterwards, it appeared that there had been 
one drawback to Amy’s perfect happiness. 

“ I did want to drive that pony myself so dread- 
fully,” she confided to her mother, when they were 
alone. 

“ Why did not you ask Mr. Clarke to let you drive? ” 
said her mother ; “ he would have been perfectly will- 
ing. Probably he thought you did not know how.” 


Some Visits. 237 

“Oh, I didn’t like to,” said Amy. ^‘But anyway, 
we had a perfectly lovely drive.” 

“And so you are not sorry that you came to 
Nahant? ” 

“Sorry? I should think not. I wouldn’t have 
missed it for anything. Mr. Clarke is very nice; he 
told me such interesting things about the stars; and 
only think, to-night he is going to show us Jupiter’s 
moons through the telescope. I always did long to 
look through a telescope.” 

In the evening, as they all sat on the porch. Uncle 
Kobert gave the young folks an interesting talk about 
the stars, which the older people enjoyed too. He 
said to Amy, — 

“Look at the Milky Way. What do you see?” 

“A white haze, like a thin cloud,” said Amy. 

“Now look at it through this opera glass,” said 
Uncle Robert, handing her a large opera glass. 

“Oh — oh! ” exclaimed Amy;, “why, it’s all little 
stars ! ” 

Then she peeped out to make sure it was really the 
Milky Way at which she was looking, then back into 
the glass. 

“I feel as if I were looking far on into space.” 

“With the most powerful telescope, bringing into 
view hundreds more of stars than you see now,” said 
Uncle Robert, “there is still the milky haze beyond, 
composed of stars so far away that it is impossible for 
us to distinguish them. And you must remember, 
Amy, that every one of those ‘ little stars, ’ as you 
call them, is actually a sun like ours, with probably 
a system of planets revolving around it.” 

Amy was filled with awe at the sense of the im- 


238 A Jolly Grood Summer. 

mensity of the universe thus brought home to her 
mind. She had often pondered it. Once, when 
much younger, she had called her mother upstairs 
after she had gone to bed, saying she could not get 
to sleep “because she was afraid.” 

“ Why, Amy,” her mother had remonstrated , “ there 
is nothing to be afraid of! ” 

“I am afraid of the universe,” said Amy. “It is 
so big, with all those worlds going way out into 
space, and we are so little, and seem of so little 
consequence.” 

As the child talked, a sense of awe filled the 
mother’s soul. Home to her, too, came a sense of 
our littleness and feebleness amid the vastness of the 
universe. 

“ Amy,” she said , “ the words of Frederick Hosmer’s 
hymn express it all, — 

“ I little see, I little know, 

Yet can I fear no ill ; 

He who hath guided me till now 
Will be my Leader still.” 

God cares for us now; He will always care for us. 
We can only fall back on our trust in Him, and try 
to do right. It is always safe to do right.” ’ 

Mr. Clarke brought out a small telescope, fixed it 
in position, and showed every one Jupiter and its 
moons. Through the telescope it became plain that 
Jupiter was not the little twinkling star it looked to 
the naked eye, but a round globe. Finally, Thomas 
brought out iced lemonade, and so let them down 
gently to earth and earthly topics again. 

Altogether it was a great evening for Amy, filling 


Some Visits. 


239 


her mind with many thoughts; and when she went 
to bed she was full of talk. 

“Do you suppose, mamma, that after death we can 
go from star to star, all through the universe?’’ she 
asked. 

“We do not know; it is possible. Many people 
think so,” said her mother. 

“How much Dr. Hough would enjoy that!” said 
Amy; “he likes to investigate things so much. How 
delightful it would be ! Do you think we are in the 
universe after we die, mamma?” 

“Yes, I think so. We do not know anything about 
it, of course,” said her mother, “but I believe that 
’we and our friends who have passed out of our sight 
are still in the same universe, only in different 
rooms, so to speak. Jesus, you know, said, ‘ In my 
Father’s house there are many mansions,’ which 
means rooms.” 

But now, seeing that Amy’s eyes were large and 
shining, and her mind evidently very active, she 
changed the topic to matters not so likely to over- 
excite the little brain that thought too much. 

“I wonder how poor Allan will bear his great dis- 
appointment to-morrow?” she said. “When Ned 
and Will went off early to bed to-night, because they 
must rise so early to-morrow morning, Allan went 
too. Then his father slipped out quietly after him, 
I noticed.” 

“I don’t blame Allan,” said Amy. “If I were a 
boy, I should be crazy to go off on a cruise in that 
yacht. It seems so adventuresome.” 

“Venturesome, I suppose you me'an,” said her 
mother. 


240 


A Jolly Grood Summer. 

“No, adventuresome. It^s an Our Land word. It 
means going on adventures.’’ 

The next morning the places of Ned and Will at'- 
the breakfast-table were vacant. They had risen in 
the small hours of the morning, and slipped out of 
the house while every one slept, and were now off 
the coast somewhere, well under weigh on the famous 
cruise. 

“I shall not have a moment’s peace of mind until 
I see Ned safe at home again,” said Aunt Adelaide; 
“especially if a severe storm comes up, shall I be 
very anxious. I am so glad dear Allan gave up, like 
a good boy, and stayed at home to please his father.” 

The good boy, Allan, sat very quietly, not to say 
glumly, eating his breakfast in silence, apparently 
not much comforted by a sense of his goodness. He 
seemed to feel rather crushed, and as if life were not 
worth living. But he made no murmurs or com- 
plaints, and, after breakfast, out on the porch, kept 
close to his father, even sitting on the arm of his 
chair and lying up against him, although Mr. Strong 
wore a spotless white flannel suit, which Greta felt 
was not likely to be improved by too close contact 
with a boy’s clothes. 

“ Why don’t you get a chair of your own, Allan?” 
she asked, in her gentle voice. “ There* are plenty 
of chairs.” 

“ Let him stay here,” said his father, putting his 
arm around Allan, and Allan stayed. 

Aunt Adelaide had told Mrs. Strong that it was 
Allan’s strong love for his father that had reconciled 
him to their decision that he could not go on the 
cruise. 


Some Visits, 


241 


“Allan is particularly his father^s boy,” she said. 
“ When his father reminded him that he should only 
be here a week, and must then return to his business, 
Allan was willing to give up the cruise for the sake 
of being with his father. But he feels greatly dis- 
appointed, poor boy. His father will make it up to 
him somehow.” 

After a while Aunt Adelaide, who had discovered 
that Amy would enjoy driving the pony, said, — 

“Allan, would n’t you like to take 3"our cousin Amy 
out with the pony, and let her drive?” 

“I don’t know,” said Allan, indifferently, while 
Amy’s face flushed a little, in her eagerness that 
Allan should consent. 

“I think that would be so pleasant,” said his 
mother. “You know Amy is going away this 
afternoon.” 

Allan said nothing, but lopped about the porch in 
an aimless way, not seeming to care much for driving, 
or anything else in truth. 

Amy had brought down the block and pencils that 
were her inseparable travelling companions, and was 
amusing Percy by drawing pictures. She drew a 
picture of Uncle Kobert smoking, which Mr. Clarke 
put carefully in his note-book, saying, — 

“I shall take that home to Kansas City to re- 
member you by, Amy.” 

Allan drew near and looked on as Amy drew a 
little while, and then disappeared, no one knew 
where, until he appeared again, driving the pony 
and cart up to the steps. 

“That’s a nice boy, Allan,” said his mother. 
“Get your hat, Amy.” 


16 


242 A Jolly Good Summer. 

Amy ran joyfully for her hat. But evidently Allan 
did not want to be too nice a boy. He came up on 
the porch and lounged in a sea-chair, while the 
patient pony stood by the steps, and poor Amy’s 
heart began to sink, fearing that Allan might change 
his mind, and not go after all; and she did so long to 
drive the pretty pony. It seemed the chance of a 
lifetime to her. 

But Amy behaved very well; she manifested no 
impatience, did not even intimate that she wanted to 
go driving, but took up her block again, and began 
drawing the Story of an Apple Pie” for Percy. 
Allan soon became interested too, in spite of him- 
self, and when Z had “zigzagged” the poor pie, he 
said, — 

“Come on, Amy; we might as well go if we are 
going.” 

Amy thought so too, and off they went. Allan let 
Amy occupy the proud post of driver. As Amy, all 
smiles, took up the reins, and the pony trotted smartly 
off down the driveway under the elm-trees’ arch, her 
mother, rather to her own surprise, felt a pang of 
something remarkably like envy, — a passion of 
which she considered herself incapable. So per- 
haps she was, for herself ; but for Amy, — ah , that 
was another matter. The cart was brown, and the 
pony brown spotted with white. He was round and 
fat and shining, and his sheared mane stood up in a 
smart ridge down his neck. Amy wore a brown 
dress that morning, and her brown hat tipped up 
behind over the golden hair that floated down her 
shoulders. She and the pony and cart all matched 
each other. 


Some Visits, 


243 


“Amy looks as if that pony belonged to her,” 
thought her mother. “I wish she could have a pony. 
It ’s too bad the child can’t have one, when it would 
be such a happiness to her. It ’s a shame so many 
children can have things Amy must go without.” 

And for an instant Mrs. Strong rebelled against fate, 
because Amy must be denied some pleasures. Then 
common sense revived again, and she thought, — 

“How foolish I am! Amy really enjoys the pony 
far more than if she owned him, because he has the 
charm of novelty. Allan, who can drive him at any 
time, cares but little about it. Of course Amy would 
love a pony dearly, but, in the long run, I know it is 
far from well for a child to have every wish gratified. 
Life loses its interest when there is no longer any- 
thing to wish for. Amy is better off as she is.” 

All the time this mental debate was going on in 
Mrs. Strong’s mind, she was outwardly listening and 
making suitable replies to Aunt Adelaide’s account 
of some extremely interesting lectures she had lately 
attended. 

Meantime Amy, as happy as any real princess, 
guided the pretty pony skilfully along the shaded 
roads of Nahant, and across the narrow neck of sand 
that joins the promontory of Nahant to Lynn. On 
one side the blue waters of the ocean, on the other 
those of the bay, running up, seemed undecided 
whether or no to sweep across this narrow strip of 
sand and make Nahant an island. To drive there 
in the salt breeze was almost equal to being at sea, 
without the risk of sea sickness or shipwreck. Amy 
thought it most delightful, especially when, in coming 
back, at Allan’s suggestion, they drove right on the 


244 A Jolly Good Summer. 

hard sand of the beach with wavelets sometimes run- 
ning up and breaking under the cart wheels. 

She came home glowing with happiness, while 
Allan’s face had preceptibly shortened and bright- 
ened, and he began once more to take an interest in 
life. They found the ladies and Professor Strong 
about going down to take a bath. Mr. Strong, hav- 
ing lent his brother his bathing suit, walked up and 
down the beach smoking, and keeping an eye on 
Allan, who was showing Amy how well he could 
swim, and on Percy and Amy, as, barefooted, they 
ran up and down the beach, letting the waves break 
over their feet, and gathering shells to add to Amy’s 
collection. 

After dinner, good-by had again to be said. Amy 
was delighted that her father had decided to go up 
to Boston by the steamboat. The Strongs sat up on 
deck, at the very bow, Amy clasping a huge paper 
box full of seashells. The salt sea-breeze swept 
around them so coolly that they were obliged to put 
on heavy wraps , but its invigorating tonic filled them 
with new life. They looked with delight on the 
beautiful, ever-changing picture of rock, and shore, 
and blue sea, running with white-capped waves. 
When they entered Boston harbor, the interest in- 
tensified, as they saw the lovely islands, the vessels 
of all sorts and nations going to and fro, or moored 
thickly around the long wharves, and the gilt dome 
of the historic city herself looming up ahead. 

As they landed, Amy said, — 

“Oh, dear! I wish our voyage had been longer; it 
was over too soon. But then, I shall see my nieces 
again.” 


Some Visits, 


245 


“Yes,” said her mother. “Luckily there is always 
something pleasant everywhere. ]So one place has 
everything.” 

“That is really true, is n^t it? ” said Amy. When 
I must leave my nieces , why, then comes Hackmatack, 
and Greenfield, and Uncle Joseph, and Aunt Rebecca, 
and all those good times. And then comes Hillside 
Avenue again, and all my little friends ! ” 


246 


A Jolly Good Summer. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

OLD HACKMATACK AND OLD TIMES. 

P ROEESSOR STRONG’S father had been settled 
as a minister for thirty years in the little farm- 
ing town of Hackmatack, among the hills of Western 
Massachusetts. Here Professor Strong was born, 
and passed his boyhood. Amy never tired of hear- 
ing her father’s stories that began , When I was a 
boy.” When very little, she used to climb into his 
lap, summer evenings on the porch, and beg, — 
“Now, papa, please tell me a chapter of your 
autobiography.” 

Her father could rarely resist the persuasive force 
of the big word coining from the little girl. Now 
Amy was to have the great pleasure of actually visit- 
ing the scene of these familiar stories, and so was 
full of happy anticipation. 

They left the train, and embarked in the Hack- 
matack stage for a seven-mile drive, uphill most of 
the way from Miller’s River, with only an occasional 
downhill for variety. As they mounted higher and 
higher among the hills, the Professor began to warm 
up, to indulge in reminiscences, to ask questions of 
Mr. Holland, the driver, who was, by the way, no 
ordinary driver, but a man of substance and standing 
in both church and state in Hackmatack. 


Old Hachmatach and Old Times, 247 


Amy could not sufficiently admire the wild-flowers 
along the roadside and in the woods. Especially was 
she charmed when they passed a pond along whose 
shores flamed tall spikes of cardinal flower, the first 
she had ever seen. And the blackberries — one 
would not have believed there were so many black- 
berries in the world as hung down from all the 
bushes in the rail-fence corners. 

‘‘Oh, mamma, only see the berries! How I wish 
I could get out and pick a few ! ” said Amy. 

Mr. Holland kindly stopped, as the Strongs were 
his only passengers, and let Amy gather some of the 
“real Hackmatack berries,” as she told her father 
when she climbed back again to share her spoils with 
him and her mother. 

By and by the tip of a white steeple appeared above 
the tree tops. 

“Oh, papa,” cried Amy, “is that the steeple you 
climbed when you were a boy?” 

“The very one,” said her father, smiling. 

“I don’t see how you dared,” said Amy. 

“Boys dare do many things they ought not,” said 
her father. 

Now they came down hill, past the old graveyard, 
past the church, into the little cluster of white houses 
nestled at the foot of Mt. Zoar, rising grandly up 
above the village like a huge monster lying dormant, 
but full of conscious life. At the tavern they en- 
gaged two rooms opening into each other, much to 
Amy’s comfort. After dinner, Mr. Holland drove 
up with a carryall and spirited young horse, which 
Professor Strong had engaged of him for the after- 
noon. 


248 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

^^Oh, please, may I drive, papa?” asked Amy, as 
they started off. 

“Yes, if you want to,” said her father, passing 
over the reins. 

“Daniel, how can you!” remonstrated Mrs. Strong 
from the back seat. “This horse looks very gay. 
See his ears ! ” 

“As long as I sit by Amy it is perfectly safe,” said 
her husband. “The only way she can ever learn to 
drive is by practising.” 

“Yes, mamma, I have to practise,” said Amy, 
delighted. 

“I like to have you learn to drive,” said her 
mother, “but I confess I should prefer to have you 
practise when I am not a passenger. But never 
mind.” 

For Amy sat up so erect and proud and satisfied, 
holding the reins, and her father, keeping the whip 
in his own hands, watched her and the horse so care- 
fully, that Mrs. Strong’s fears subsided, and she 
would not spoil Amy’s pleasure. Amy even turned 
out, all by herself, when they met an ox-cart. 

“There, mamma, did you see that?” she said. “I 
told you I knew how to drive.” 

They drove by the place where Professor Strong’s 
grandmother used to live, and he pointed out the old 
orchard and the cider-mill to Amy. But the old 
house had been torn down, when Uncle Zach had 
built a new one across the road, and they only saw 
its cellar-hole. They drove on, always up or down 
hill, getting most beautiful views now and then down 
the green valleys that lay among the mountains. 

“This air is as cool and fresh as water from a 
mountain spring,” said Mrs. Strong. 


Old Hackmatack and Old Times, 249 

“ There no healthier place in the world than 
Hackmatack,” said her husband. 

“I do wish papa would buy our farm here,” said 
Amy. 

“ Our- farm ” was one of Amy’s favorite dreams, 
and many were her plans for the happy time “ when 
we go to live on a farm.” 

“We will see about that when the time comes,” 
said her father, well pleased with the compliments 
to Hackmatack. 

They drove into the old Sprague place to call upon 
Miss Amanda Sprague, who lived alone now in the 
home of her forefathers. But in summer she had 
frequent visits from her nephews and nieces and their 
children, who liked nothing better than a visit to 
“Aunt ’Manda” in the ancestral home. Professor 
Strong had known well, and highly respected. Miss 
Amanda’s father. Captain Sprague, one of his father’s 
most valued parishioners, and the Sprague boys had 
been his boyish friends and schoolmates, while Mrs. 
Strong, when a girl, went to school to Miss Amanda. 

Miss Amanda came out her side door when she 
saw a carriage driving down her road, and was grati- 
fyingly surprised and pleased to see such old friends. 
The others went into the house, but Amy, not wish- 
ing to leave her fascinating post as driver, said, — 

“I will sit in the carriage and hold the horse, 
papa.” 

“Very well; I will keep an eye on her out the 
window,” said her father, to reassure his wife. 

Once in Miss Amanda’s quaint, pleasant old parlor. 
Professor and Mrs. Strong were soon so deep in talk 
with her about old times and former friends, that 


250 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

they forgot to watch Amy, especially as the horse, 
after his long drive, seemed well content to stand 
quietly. Suddenly a sound of grating wheels attracted 
Mrs. Strong’s attention. Glancing out, she cried, — 

“Daniel, Amy is tipping over! ” 

All rushed out, to hud Amy in the act of turning 
around, two wheels high in the air, two cramped 
dangerously beneath the carriage, while the horse 
looked as if he mistrusted something was wrong. 
Amy, looking pale but determined, held the reins 
tightly, and just as her father reached her, brought 
around triumphantly, even if on one wheel. 

“There! I did it! ” said Amy. 

“What were you trying to do, Amy?” asked both 
father and mother at once. 

“The flies bit the horse so he didn’t stand still, 
and I thought I would just turn him around and 
bring him more into the shade,” said Amy, not with- 
out a sense of satisfaction in her feat, if she were 
still pale. The truth was, she had never turned a 
carriage around before, and had felt ambitious to try 
that feat, and the horse’s restlessness furnished top 
good an excuse to be lost. 

Having several other calls to make, the Strongs 
now bid Miss Amanda good-by. As they drove out 
from under the shade of her large trees, for the first 
time they observed dark clouds rolling rapidly up the 
sky from behind Mt. Zoar, while an ominous mutter 
of thunder was heard from the same direction. 

“I don’t know whether we shall have time to call- 
on Aunt Lucinda or not before the shower reaches 
us,” said Professor Strong. “We will see if we can 
make it.” 


Old Hackmatack and Old Times, 251 

To Mrs. Strong’s satisfaction, he now took the 
reins, and put the horse to his best pace over the 
hills. But the storm travelled faster than they. 
The wind grew stronger, lashing the tree branches 
wildly about, the clouds rolled dark over the sky, 
the thunder pealed louder, with bright flashes of 
lightning, and just as they dashed up to the Hack- 
matack House, the storm broke in great severity. 

“It is only a shower,” said Professor Strong. “I 
have put the horse under the shed, so that we can go 
out again when it clears. Meantime, I will take you 
up into the hall, and show Amy where I used to 
attend singing-school and balls.” 

Amy was delighted at this. The hall, the scene 
of so many past gaieties, was bare and echoing with 
emptiness ; but she listened with deep interest while 
her father told where he used to sit, where Mr. 
Foster, the singing teacher, stood, and so on. As 
they were talking the door opened, and a tall man 
with a strong face and iron-gray hair entered. 

“Daniel,” he said, “what are you doing up here, I 
should like to know ? ” 

Professor Strong stared a moment, then exclaimed, — 

“Why, Cyrus Dole! Is it you?” 

Hearty was the handshaking and greeting between 
the old friends, who had hardly met since they were 
boys together. 

“The storm drove me into the tavern for shelter,” 
said Mr. Dole. “Some men sitting on the piazza 
said, ‘ If you want to see Parson Strong’s son, he is 
up stairs in the hall,’ so up I came.” 

They all went down into the parlor, where, while 
the storm raged without, the old friends indulged in 


252 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

reminiscences of former times, much to the entertain- 
ment of Amy and her mother, and Amy learned some 
chapters of her father’s autobiography she had never 
before heard. 

The storm lasted until tea time, preventing any 
more driving. When at last the clouds broke away, 
and the sun, low in the west, gleamed brightly out 
over the wet trees, dripping and shining with rain- 
drops, Mr. Dole said good-by, and drove off to his 
home in Northfield, where he was one of the leading 
men. 

After tea the Strongs procured the key, and went 
up the hill to visit the old church, beautiful for 
situation, almost in the shadow of Mt. Zoar looming 
up grandly close by. Behind the pulpit where he 
stood for thirty years, hung a life-sized portrait of 
Amy’s grandfather Strong, presented the parish by 
his oldest son, Erasmus. They went up into the 
gallery and saw the very seat where Professor Strong 
sat when he sang in the choir. 

From the church they went to call at the house 
where Professor Strong was born, and where he lived 
until he went to college. It was now owned by a 
retired merchant from Boston, who had chosen Hack- 
matack as a quiet, healthful place wherein to pass 
his last days. He was most cordial, and took the 
Strongs all over the house, with which Amy was so 
familiar from her father’s stories. The front hall, 
painted in landscapes by her grandmother, had long 
since been papered over, but on the second floor, 
beside some attic stairs built by its present owner, 
was still preserved a bit of its former glory in a frag- 
ment of waving palm-branches. 


Old Hackmatack and Old Times, 253 

Amy was very anxious to go down to the old site 
of the house, and see where it had been moved up 
across the fields, but the grass was too deep and wet. 
They went to pass the evening with her father’s 
Uncle Josiah, still living at the advanced age of 
ninety-five, mentally as bright as ever, and a most 
entertaining companion, — a fine example of the old 
New England stock. 

The next morning dawned in splendor after the 
shower of the day before. The face of nature was 
washed so clean that it shone. The air was fresh, 
pure, and full of sweetness, and so clear that it 
seemed one could almost touch Mt. Zoar as the 
Strongs walked up to the old burying-ground, where 
they had arranged that Mr. Holland was to call for 
them on his way to the station. 

Here, in the pleasant graveyard on the hillside, 
with its neat stone wall and many large trees, slept 
Professor Strong’s ancestors. Amy read on the 
stones names she had often heard about, and looked 
at the monument erected by her Uncle Erasmus to 
his parents’ memory. Then she asked, — 

“May I walk on up the road, mamma, and be 
picking berries until you overtake me?” 

As it was nearly time for Mr. Holland to come for 
them, and Hackmatack was such a safe place, her 
mother consented. When they started for the station 
behind a fine pair of spirited colts, Mrs. Strong 
expected soon to overtake Amy, but as they drove on 
up hill around turn after turn, and still no sign of 
Amy appeared, she began to feel uneasy. 

“ How foolish I was to let her start on alone ! ” she 
said. “I thought she could not get far ahead of us. 
I don’t see what has become of her.” 


254 A Jolly Good Summer. 

But now, as they rounded another turn, her mother’s 
eyes were gladdened by the sight of Amy’s slender 
form coming back down the hill to meet them. Her 
eyes were bright, her cheeks pink with her walk in 
the fresh air, her hands were full of wild-flowers, 
and her lips stained with blackberries. 

“Only see, mamma,” she said, as she climbed into 
the open wagon, “ what perfectly beautiful goldenrod, 
and asters and ferns I found! I am going to take 
them to Aunt Kebecca. I guess she will be very 
glad to have them from her old home. How lovely 
Hackmatack is! Ho please buy our farm here, papa! 
I should love to live here so much, — summers, I 
mean. Of course, I never want to give up Hillside 
Avenue. We could live there winters, you know, 
and here summers.” 

“That sounds well, Amy,” said her father; “but 
it takes money to carry out such fine plans.” 

Their next and last visit was to be at Greenfield, 
Mrs. Strong’s former home. Greenfield is the shire 
town of the county, — a town of typical New England 
charm, with its green common in the heart of the 
village overhung with great elms, which also over- 
arch and lend dignity and beauty to all the principal 
streets. Here Mrs. Strong had come every summer 
during her parents’ life, bringing Amy from baby- 
hood to visit her grandparents. Some of Amy’s 
fondest recollections were of these happy visits at 
Grandpa May’s, of grandpa’s flower-garden and. 
chickens, of grandma’s cookies, and of all the kind- 
ness lavished upon her by these dear friends. In 
her great story, “The Ups and Downs of the Noble 
Family,” these visits to grandpa’s played a large 


Old Hackmatack and Old Times. 255 

part. The chapter called “Green Meadow” ran as 
follows, — 

“ Finally the conductor called ‘ Green Meadow ! ^ 
and Ariel jumped out of the train almost before it 
stopped, she was so eager. She jumped right into 
the arms of a white-haired gentleman. Just as Ariel 
was saying ‘ Excuse me, sir,’ in a hasty manner, she 
saw that it was her grandfather. She threw her 
arms around him, and hugged him like a miniature 
bear. After she had released him, Dr. May put 
them in the coach, and after the trunks were piled 
up behind, the driver drove off. 

“When the coach drove up before the house. 
Grandma May was waiting for them at the front 
door. The first thing that Grandma May said, after 
they were all seated at the supper-table, was, — 

“‘Well, I declare, what a big girl Ariel is getting 
to be, ’ and Ariel felt very old indeed. 

“Ariel woke up early the next morning, and at 
first she did not know where she was, but when she 
looked around her, she remembered everything, so 
she jumped out of bed and ran to the window. 

“It was a ‘real Massachusetts morning,’ as Mrs. 
Noble said when she woke up. Ariel quickly dressed 
herself, and ran downstairs. 

“Grandpa May’s house was a little gieen cottage 
nestled in among trees, standing on about an acre of 
land. Dr. May loved all fiowers, and cultivated a 
great many of them. He was quite noted for his 
roses and pansies in Green Meadow; he also had a 
great many fruit-trees and vegetables. 

“There was one particular tree that was easily 
climbed, and there . was always a hammock swung 
under it. 


256 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

“As I have said, Ariel ran downstairs. She 
thought that Ann, grandma’s cook, would be in the 
kitchen, but she was not there, and Ariel heard her 
just getting out of bed upstairs. 

“ Ariel thought she would go out doors, so she tried 
to unlock the kitchen door, but she could not do it. 
Then she thought of the woodshed. Going down 
through that, she had no difficulty in unfastening the 
double doors, so she quickly did it. 

“Grandpa May kept chickens in the wood -house, 
and the minute the door was open, — 

“ ‘ Out they flew, 

With a coockle — doodle doo ! ^ 

“ Then Ariel went into the garden and the grape 
arbor, where her swing was, and finally climbed up 
into the old apple-tree. 

“Meantime, Ann had come downstairs, and was 
greatly disturbed to find the house doors open. But in 
a minute she burst out laughing, when she went out 
doors and saw Ariel calmly sitting in the apple-tree. 
When Ariel saw her, she quickly, if not gracefully, 
got down from the tree by sliding down its sloping 
trunk. Then she ran to Ann and said, — 
Good-morning. I got up early.’ 

“‘Sol see ; and you nearly scared me out of my 
wits,’ said Ann, laughingly. 

“While Ann was getting breakfast, Ariel drew a 
picture of her going to a party. Ariel was so 
absorbed in the picture that she did not see her 
grandfather, till he said, — 

“‘Good-morning, Miss Earlybird. You’re out 
early this morning.’ 


Old HacJcmatach and Old Times. 257 

“ ‘ Oh, grandpa, ’ she answered, ‘ I let out your 
chickens for you, and I got up ever and ever so 
early, and I frightened Ann nearly out of her wits, 
she said.’ 

“‘Well, well, I shall have to call you Mistress 
Morning Glory, I think.’ 

‘“Oh, what a pretty name!’ cried Ariel, 
delightedly.” 

In a later chapter, called “Pansie and Pie,” was 
this description of her grandfather : — 

“ Grandpa May was a well-known favorite with all 
the children round about, and every morning, when 
he went to his business, he took pears, or apples, or 
candy, or flowers with him, which he gave to children 
on the way. 

“One day he was going down town, when a little 
boy, about flve years old, stepped up to him and 
said, — 

“ ‘ Good-morning, Mr. Dr. May. Please, have you 
got anything in your pocket for me to-day? ’ and Dr. 
May had produced a big, juicy pear. 

“Dr. May used to be a doctor, but now he was 
town-clerk and treasurer. He was slightly bent 
with writing so much, but every one liked it, for it 
was part of him, and he would not seem natural 
without it.” 

Another of Amy’s fondly remembered pleasures 
was being allowed to “help” grandma cook, which 
joy was thus described : — 

“She found her grandmother making pies, and 
Ariel immediately wanted to help. Her grandmother 
gave her a little pie-crust dough, and a saucer, and 
showed her how to fix it; then she gave her some of 
17 


258 


A Jolly Good Summer. 


the apple to put in it. After it was finished, she 
put it in the oven. 

“Then Ann gave her the potatoes to mash, and 
after that, she cut the bread; so, altogether, she felt 
quite a cook. When dinner was ready, she proudly 
presented her pie and potatoes, and nicely cut 
bread.” 

It was in this story that Amy, after speaking of 
the death of one of her characters , said, ‘‘ I will not 
tell the end; it was too sad, if indeed it was an 
end. It seemed more like a beginning in another 
world.” 

But grandpa had died some years ago, and grandma 
had followed him, and the old place had been sold to 
strangers. The Strongs were to be the guests, during 
their stay, of Amy’s Aunt Eebecca, whose husband. 
Dr. Morse, was a retired minister. Dr. and Mrs. 
Morse were most hospitable people, whose house 
always had a warm welcome for all their friends. 
They were especially kind and indulgent to chil- 
dren. Having none of their own, they had adopted 
a baby girl needing a home. All the pent-up parent 
love in their hearts was lavished on this child, who 
grew to be a sweet girl of thirteen, full of loving- 
kindness and winning ways. Then suddenly she 
was taken from them. How they loved all children 
for her dear sake. Amy, in particular, was a great 
favorite with them. They felt almost as if their 
Alice had come back when they saw once more a 
little girl’s dolls sitting in state on the library 
sofa, and traces of a child’s presence all about the 
lonely house. Amy was equally fond of them. She 
said,— 


Old Hackmatack and Old Times. 259 

“I love to go to Aunt Rebecca’s, because she will 
let me do anything I want to, — even to toast bread 
by the parlor fire.” 

It seemed, if possible, that Aunt Rebecca was 
kinder than ever on this visit. She was much 
pleased with the flowers that Amy brought her from 
Hackmatack, and the second day after her arrival, 
said, — 

“Amy, I have asked two nice little girls to come 
and play with you this afternoon. You may have a 
dolls’ tea-party up in Alice’s play-room in the attic, 
if you will be careful not to disarrange it.” 

‘‘Oh, thank you. Aunt Rebecca,” said Amy; “I 
will be very careful. I should like to have a dolls’ 
wedding, because Violet has such a lovely bridal 
dress and veil that Faith made her, and she and 
Lord Fauntleroy have only been married once since 
she had it, because I have been travelling about so 
much.” 

“That will be very nice,” said Aunt Rebecca, “and 
I will have Katie make you some chocolate wedding- 
cake.” 

“ If there is going to be a wedding in this house, 
Amy,” said her Uncle Joseph, “you ought to ask 
Mr. Gatlin and me to attend. What is a wedding 
without ministers?” 

Mr. Gatlin was a prominent Southern minister, 
who was spending a day or two with Dr. Morse. 
He, too, was fond of children, and seconded Dr. 
Morse’s motion heartily. 

“You may both come,” said Amy, “if you will not 
make fun of it.” 

“ That seems rather a reflection on our ministerial 


260 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

dignity,” said Mr. Catlin; “but we will accept your 
cordial invitation.” 

In the afternoon Bessie and Grace arrived promptly 
with their best dolls in their arms, and were de- 
lighted to find so important an affair as a wedding on 
hand. The two ministers really climbed up the attic 
stairs to assist at the occasion. They reported at the 
tea-table that they felt slighted because not invited 
to perform the ceremony, Amy not trusting them, 
but preferring to do it herself, with the aid of a 
service book lent her by Uncle Joseph. But they 
had some of the wedding-cake. The wedding was 
altogether such a success, that when Amy returned 
home, she hastened to repeat it in the family dining- 
room, for the benefit of most of the children on Hill- 
side Avenue, Lord Fauntleroy and Violet graciously 
allowing themselves to be married four times in one 
afternoon. 

One of Amy’s first pleasures on reaching Uncle 
Joseph’s was finding a letter from her cousin Mar- 
guerite, which had been forwarded from Plymouth. 
Marguerite was travelling in Europe, but would 
return in time for school in October. 

This letter was dated, — 


Hotel Victoria, Baden-Baden, 
Germany, July 31st. 

Dear Amy, — Here we are back in Germany again, and 
I am rather glad for several reasons, principally because 
we do not have table d’hote at seven or eight o’clock in the 
evening here, as we did in Switzerland. 

Baden-Baden is a very pretty place indeed. There is a 
large enclosed space shaded by big trees, and lined with 
pretty shops, with seats in it, called a “ Conversation ” place ; 


Old Hachmatach and Old Times. 


261 


people go there to read, talk, or walk. In front is the Con- 
versation Hall. The Hall has a reading-room, and a place to 
go and drink the water. The water is not anything remark- 
able. This morning we all drank a glass of the hot, tasteless 
liquid, and did not like it much. 

Do you like to ride horseback ? I do, very much indeed, 
though I do not often get a chance to. Last Tuesday, we 
went to Grindelwald by carriage from Interlaken. There is 
a glacier near there, and we, that is papa, Theo, and I, went 
up to it on horseback, while mamma was carried by two men 
in a chair. The path was steep and narrow most of the way, 
but the horses were sure-footed and walked nearly all the time, 
so there was no danger, especially as there was a guide hold- 
ins on to the bridle almost all the time. The glacier looked 
dirty. It was a mass of greenish ice, in big lumps, all tumbled 
together on a hillside, with a liberal amount of mud scattered 
over it. Below it was a deep gorge, worn out by the 
glacier long ago, with a stream flowing in it. This last is 
made by the melting of the glacier, and is quite a respectable 
little brook. After seeing what I have described, we mounted 
again and went down. It was a very nice trip, although we 
drove back to Interlaken in a pouring rain. 

It rained almost all the time we were at Interlaken, and the 
day we went to Berne, where we spent last Friday, Theo’s 
birthday. Theo had a very nice birthday. He was twelve 
years old, and got what he has long wished for, a watch. 
Papa gave him a very handsome steel and gold one, and 
mamma a set of bear chessmen, each piece a bear in some 
funny attitude. I gave him a cane with a bear carved on it. 
When we get home mamma will have it made into an umbrella 
for him to take to school. 

I am going out to drive now and must stop. 

Wednesday. The drive yesterday was a lovely one. The 
road lay through beautiful woods, part of the Black Forest, 
and went up to an old ruined castle, which papa, Theo, and I 
explored. It was very interesting indeed, and we had a fine 
view from the top of one of the old walls. There was a 


262 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

gallery which ran around a great room at about the place 
where the second floor must have been. This room was very 
large. At one end was a big basin made of stone and in the 
middle of the hall one stone pillar had been left standing. 
The doors and windows were very low, so we had to stoop 
going in ! Some of the walls date from the third century ! 

The Rhine has ever so many of these old ruins on its banks, 
with acres of grape vines below them. We are going to 
Heidelberg to-day, and Friday will take the trip up the 
Rhine. 

Perhaps you have all the stamps I enclose; if so, please 
send them back to me, as Eleanor would like to have them. 
She has just begun a collection. Please write often, but don’t 
write after the thirtieth of August, as we sail for home just 
a month from to day. 

Your loving cousin, 

Marguerite Strong. 

Aunt Rebecca, who was very fond of Marguerite, 
was glad to hear her letter, and thought it remarkably 
good for a girl of her age. 

“Marguerite loves to write letters,” said Amy. 
“She writes me so many notes at school that I can’t 
keep up with answering them. Miss Nutting made 
us promise that we would not write notes in school- 
time, so Marguerite writes her notes at home even- 
ings, and brings them to school next day.” 

“You might write her a ship letter,” said Aunt 
Rebecca, “ and send it so it would be given her the 
last thing before they sail.” 

“I will,” said Amy, “and I will illustrate it, and 
put in some of my Billington photographs. And I 
will put in my enigma, that I made up at Billington, 
so she and Theo can have something to amuse them- 
selves with on the voyage.” 


Old Hackmatack and Old Times, 


263 


This was Amy’s enigma: — 

I am composed of sixteen letters. 

My 9-6-4-13-2 is material from which dresses are made. 

My 14-10-15-4-16 is sharp pointed. 

My 1-8-5 prevents speech. 

My 7-11-12-5 soars aloft. 

My 9-1 0-3-4-6 is where I want to be when the canoe tips over. 
My whole was a distinguished man. 

Amy spent much time on the ship letter, preparing 
it in seven parts, one for each day of the voyage; 
but, alas, Marguerite never received the famous letter, 
it probably having been mailed too late to reach her 
before sailing. 

Mrs. Strong and Amy went down to Grandpa May’s 
old place, and looked sadly over the fence into the 
yard, where every tree and bush was so familiar, and 
where it seemed as if they must see grandma opening 
the front door to welcome them, and grandpa coming 
around the corner from the garden with his hands 
full of flowers. And they drove up to the little 
country graveyard under Shelburne Mountain, where, 
amid scenes dear and familiar to them in life, rested 
all that was earthly of the good, kind grandparents. 
Here, too, slept Amy’s Uncle Teddy, taken away in 
the rare promise of his youth. 

As they stood together in the silence by these 
graves so dear, from the blue sky above, the floating 
white clouds, the bird-songs, and the restful circle 
of hill and meadow around, seemed to coine an assur- 
ance of peace. The breeze rustling through the trees 
seemed to murmur, — 

“ It is well with those to whom your hearts cling 
with such undying love. Be comforted. Ere long, 


264 A Jolly Good Summer, 

you, too, shall rest as they, and love shall have its 
own again.” 

Many pleasant visits were paid to friends and rela- 
tions scattered about on farms, or in adjoining towns, 
and Amy's collection grew apace, as her friends well 
knew her tastes. Perhaps her choicest treasure was 
the skeleton of a woodchuck, presented by some 
cousins in ^Hhe Meadows.” 

“I don’t believe Elliot Carman will get a wood- 
chuck’s bones in California,” she said. 

“If my trunk should happen to break open on our 
way home, and horse-shoe crabs, shells, stones, wood- 
chuck bones and pressed flowers come tumbling out, 
I should certainly be taken for a crazy woman, ” said 
Mrs. Strong, laughing. 

But in reality she willingly accepted some trouble 
from Amy’s treasures, knowing how precious they 
were from the little girl’s point of view. She was 
not one of the mothers who thoughtlessly destroy 
“Tommy’s trash,” or “Mary’s rubbish,” wholly re- 
gardless of the feelings of the small owners. She 
felt that children have certain rights which even 
grown people should respect. 


The Reception. 


265 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE RECEPTION. 



T last came the time to say good-by to Uncle 


Joseph, Aunt Kebecca, and Katie, all stand- 
ing on the porch, and waving their hands, as the 
village coach rounded the corner of Park Street, and 
vanished from their view. 

“Please let me see the tickets, papa,” said Amy, 
as soon as they were well settled in the cars. 

She looked with satisfaction at the long tickets 
that said, “From Greenfield to Cincinnati.” The 
word “ Cincinnati ” looked pleasant and homelike. 

“I have had a perfectly delightful summer,” she 
said. “I never had such beautiful times in all my 
life, and I shall always remember it. But the best 
part of all will be getting home again. I do want to 
see all the girls so much, I can hardly wait until I 
get there.” 

The next morning, her first question was, — 

“ How soon shall we be in Cincinnati, papa? ” 

“In about three hours,” said her father. “The 
train is an hour late.” 

From this time on the train seemed to drag along 
with painful slowness to Amy. She began a poem 
on her block, expressive of her feelings. 


266 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

One, two, 

I ’m very blue. 

Three, four, 

I ’m about to roar. 

“I object to the word ‘roar/ Amy,” said her 
mother. 

“Poetry must rhyme, you know, mamma,” said 
Amy, as she scribbled on, — 

Five, six, 

I ’m m a pretty fix. 

Seven, eight, 

I cannot wait. 

“Why don’t you read your St. Nicholas?” asked 
her mother. “Time would pass faster if you were 
occupied.” 

“ I feel too excited to read,” said Amy. “ I wonder 
if the children will be expecting me? Janet and 
Ned are not home from Lakeside yet, and Cousin 
Elizabeth and the children are going to stay at 
Gloucester until school begins, but the rest are all 
at home. How I do long to see them all! ” 

At last they saw the cloud of smoke forever hang- 
ing over dear old Cincinnati, and the semicircle of 
hills, with inclines running steeply up them, and 
knew that they were entering the outskirts of the 
city. Then came the aggravating time of stopping, 
starting, backing, and general delay that always 
attends the entering of a large city over a network of 
many intersecting roads, amid the roar and screech 
of train whistles on all sides. But finally they came 


The Reception, 267 

into the Grand Central Station, and the porter called 
out, “Cincinnati! ” 

Mrs. Strong and Amy took the Edgeton electric 
car for home, as Professor Strong had to stop in town 
on business. They sped out of the city and up the 
long hill to beautiful Edgeton, the vacant lots along 
the way, that had been waving with fragrant sweet 
clover when they left, now masses of white and 
purple asters and tall purple iron-weed, whose rank 
growth spoke of the rich soil of Ohio. 

Their arrival on Hillside Avenue made no excite- 
ment, for the excellent reason that no one saw them. 
Not a child was in sight. 

“I wonder where all the children are?” said Amy, 
all smiles, and in a fine twitter of excitement. 

Bridget and Nora, however, gave them the warmest 
possible welcome. The whole house was in shining 
order, and home had never looked dearer or more 
attractive. Prince showed that she knew them well, 
and rubbed and purred about Amy in rapture, trying 
to speak if cat ever did. 

“The children are just wild about your coming 
home,” said Nora. “They’ve been bothering the 
life out of me all the forenoon, running up here every 
time our door-bell rang, to ask, ‘ Has Amy come? 
Has Amy come, Nora? ’ ” 

“Oh! where are they, Nora?” asked Amy. 

“They’re all down at Kitty Clover’s play-house,” 
said Nora. 

Amy dashed outdoors, and over to the Clovers’, 
where there at once arose a grand pow-wow. Mrs. 
Strong, looking out the window, saw Amy the centre 
of a joyous group of children, she and they equally 


268 A Jolly Good Summer, 

happy and excited, all shouting and jumping about, 
and talking at once, in their joy at being together 
again. 

When she came in to luncheon , Amy reported, — 

“Kitty and Irene and the rest are going to give 
a grand reception this afternoon, in honor of my 
return ; they have been cooking all the week for it. 
Only think, when I went down there, they were 
making grape jelly on Kitty’s cook stove, — real 
grape jelly ! ” 

Amy could hardly wait to eat her luncheon, or 
change her travelling-dress for an old gingham that 
had been left at home, before she rushed off to the 
scene of the festivities, where most of the children 
were already waiting for her. 

It was a busy afternoon. First came the reception, 
of which Amy gave her mother a full account at 
night. It seemed to have been a great success, quite 
equal for real enjoyment to any of the “brilliant 
functions” reported in society items. 

“We had almost everything to eat you can think 
of,” said Amy. “Weren’t the boys kind? They 
took up a collection among themselves, and bought 
a beefsteak, and the girls cooked it. It was a little 
tough, but we didn’t mind. It was real beefsteak. 
And then we had fried potatoes, and apples, and five 
kinds of cake, and a little pie, and the grape jelly. 
The jelly tasted funny, like lard, but we all ate some 
of it, because Irene and Kitty made it on Kitty’s 
cook stove. I had to sit on a hassock, because I was 
the guest of honor, but all the others sat on the 
ground. We all talked and talked, and told each 
other about all the fun we had had this summer. 


The Reception. 269 

Ben Bruce went to Washington with his father. 
Isn’t it funny? We have all had the best time we 
ever had in our lives.” 

“Where did you go after the reception?” asked 
her mother. “I saw you girls all hippity-hopping 
down the street.” 

“Oh, Laura asked us all down to her house to a 
rat’s funeral. It was so comical! Laura’s cook 
killed a rat under the kitchen sink this morning with 
the poker, and Laura thought he ought to have a 
funeral. Laura made us all sit in a solemn row on 
camp stools under the trees in their back yard, and 
then she made a long discourse over the poor rat. 
Then Lansing buried him. Oh, there is a great piece 
of news on the avenue. The Barr boys have a little 
baby sister! They are so proud and fond of her, they 
really quarrel to see which shall roll her out in her 
carriage. I don’t wonder; she is the sweetest, cun- 
ningest little thing, so soft, and white, and pretty. 
Billy showed her to me.” 

The Barr baby lent a new element of excitement to 
the avenue. She was always in the thick of every- 
thing going on, as whatever boy happened to be in the 
charge of the baby-carriage when anything occurred, 
naturally wished to know what the excitement was, 
aiid so rushed into the midst of it, baby and all. In 
this way she participated in all the dog-fights, fires, 
runaways, and other stirring events that enlivened 
the avenue. The boys ran races with her carriage 
up and down the avenue, and invented many new 
and pleasing experiments with it, that made some of 
the other boys on the avenue wish that they, too, 
had a little baby sister. 


270 A Jolly Good Summer. 

The mothers of the avenue constantly prophesied, 
^‘that Barr baby will certainly be killed some day.” 
Mrs. Barr was a lady of a cheerful, easy tempera- 
ment, who had successfully reared seven boys, and 
she never worried, but felt as if everything would 
come out right, as it generally did, in fact. If the 
baby tipped over now and then, a few minutes crying 
was the extent of her injuries ; and when the ice cart 
ran over her, somehow she escaped uninjured, though 
every one said, “ There, I told you so ! ” She delighted 
in her brothers, and evidently thought them the most 
entertaining and lively nurses imaginable. 

Another great item of news on the avenue was the 
engagement of young Dr. Trimble. 

“It’s a great secret,” said Amy. “The Trimbles 
don’t want any one to know it yet.” 

‘‘How did you happen to hear of it, then?” asked 
her mother. 

“Why, you see it was this way. The Bodmans 
are all here from Connecticut to visit their Grand- 
father Trimble. Lewis Bodman was so overjoyed 
because his uncle was engaged, that he felt he had to 
tell some one. So he took Billy Barr down in the 
hollow, back of his grandfather’s, very privately, 
and said, — 

“ ‘ Cross your heart, and promise never to tell, 
Billy, and I ’ll tell you a great secret.’ 

“Billy couldn’t keep it to himself, so he took Ben 
Bruce off alone, and made him cross his heart, and 
promise never to tell, and then told him. Ben knew 
his big sister Josie would be so much interested, 
that he made her cross her heart, and then told her. 
And then, of course, Josie told Maude Clover, and 


271 


The Reception. 

all Dr. Trimble’s other young lady friends, so now 
nearly every one knows it. Kitty told me, but I did 
not promise not to tell.” 

Elliot Carman, who had returned from his trip to 
Alaska and California about the same time that Amy 
came home, generously brought over some of his 
curiosities to add to her ever-growing collection. 
Among the things he gave her were a pair of tiny 
deerskin moccasins not a finger long, made by the 
Indians, a nest of the trap-door spider, door and all, 
and, best of all , Elliot thought, a tarantula preserved 
in a bottle of alcohol. 

“I found that tarantula myself,” said Elliot. “I 
have three more. I could have got plenty of them 
down in Southern California, but the ladies at the 
hotel were so silly. They made such a fuss when 
they found I was collecting tarantulas, that mother 
made me give it up.” 

In return Amy gave Elliot some sea-urchins and 
shells, and pieces of conglomerate rock from Hack- 
matack, and wished, as did Elliot, that she had 
another woodchuck’s skeleton to give him. 

Elliot took almost as lively an interest as did Amy 
herself in the progress of her flock of chickens during 
her absence. ’ He often went down with her to look 
at them, and gave her much valuable advice. 

Amy’s little blank book, labelled “Memorandum 
of my Chickens,” showed that there had been many 
ups and downs in the chicken kingdom since its 
foundation. Some of its entries read, — 

Mr. Chickabod made king, Dec. 27th. 

Set Mrs. Chickabod first week in March. 

Set Princess March 9th. 

Failure ! ! ! ! 


272 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


Race of Chickabod. 

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, 
Saturday. 

Saturday, eaten by a cat. Friday and Thursday disappeared 
about the same time as Saturday. No more Thursday, Friday, 
Saturday ! 

Race of Cockletop. 

Spot, Speckle, and Yellow. 

Yellow disappeared. 

Jenny Lind set unsuccessfnlly. 

Adelina Patti set unsuccessfully. 

Mrs. John Drew is a persevering though cross old lady. She be- 
gan to set at the same time as Jenny Lind and Patti, and though 
unsuccessful, continues ! 

Lady Koweua is the only one of my hens that has never set. I 
admire and esteem her for it ! She lays splendid large eggs. All 
of my hens do when not setting, but they set all the time ! How- 
ever, I don’t mind. 

Amy’s special pet, Dorcas Boy, the tiny white 
bantam, had not forgotten her in her absence. He 
came, as of old, to eat from her hand, and let her 
pick him up and carry him where she pleased, and 
they still had their crowing matches, he answering 
her every time. 

Dorcas Boy flies upstairs in the stable every night 
to sleep, because he stands in such awe of Father 
Dorcas,” Amy told Elliot. ^‘Then in the morning 
he can’t come down.” 

“Why don’t you drive him down?” asked Elliot; 
“he can fly down easily enough if he only thinks so.” 

“I don’t want to,” said Amy. “He always waits 
at the top of the stairs for me. The minute I open 
the stable door, he begins to crow and make funny 
little noises to attract my attention, until I go up 
and bring him down. He is my favorite chicken.” 


273 


The Reception. 

Soon after Mrs. Strong^s return, she was out work- 
ing in her flower-beds, when Dixon saw her, and 
came over to engage her in conversation. He began 
by asking, — 

“Mrs. Strong, what makes the sea salt?’^ 

Mrs. Strong, whose ideas on this subject were not 
so clear as she could have wished, made rather a 
vague reply about evaporation. 

“Did you know,” continued Dixon, after a short 
pause, “that we are made of charcoal and water?” 

“Indeed?” was Mrs. Strong^s safe reply. 

“Yes, I read it in a book. I wonder how far it is 
to China? — right down through the earth, I mean. 
Do you know, Mrs. Strong?” 

“ I suppose it must be about three thousand miles ,” 
said Mrs. Strong. 

Dixon sauntered around a little, and then 
remarked, — 

“I have been reading about guns lately. How 
are breech-loading rifles made, Mrs. Strong? ” 

“I am afraid I shall have to confess ignorance, 
Dixon.” 

“ They used to have flint locks in old times. Bang ! 
Bang!” said Dixon, firing off an imaginary gun at 
Prince, who was loitering about, as she liked to do 
when her mistress worked outdoors. 

“What are percussion caps made of? Did you ever 
hear one go off?” was Dixon’s next question. 

“Yes, I suppose I hear a good many every Fourth 
of July.” 

“Can you tell me, Mrs. Strong, why they call gun- 
boats by that name? ” 

“Keally, Dixon,” said Mrs. Strong, beginning to 
18 


274 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

feel the mental strain of Dixon’s conversation, “you 
ask too many questions. I never feel like talking 
much when I am weeding.” 

Dixon was silent fully two minutes. Then he 
said, — 

“I’m a republican; Mr. Clover is a democrat. 
What are you, Mrs. Strong?” 

No answer from Mrs. Strong, hard at work with 
her trowel. 

Presently Dixon said, — 

“I ’ve learned to whistle this summer. Would you 
like to hear me whistle?” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Strong, patiently. 

Dixon, solemnly, and with much sucking in of 
breath, performed, “After the ball is over,” the only 
air of which he was yet master. Morning, noon, 
and night, all summer, had the neighbors listened to 
the long-drawn melody of this air, incessantly prac- 
tised by Dixon. 

“ I ’ve learned to turn somersaults, too,” said Dixon. 
“At least, I think I can turn one.” 

Dixon stood on his head, his slender legs rose un- 
certainly in the air, waved wildly about, and flapped 
ignominiously back again, without going over after 
all. 

“Ah,” said Dixon, red in the face, “I didn’t quite 
manage to do it that time. But I think I can; 
I ’ve done it several times.” 

Dixon now devoted himself to practising somer- 
saults, at the risk, Mrs. Strong felt, of either break- 
ing his neck or bursting a blood-vessel; but at least 
his energies were so absorbed that he ceased to ask 
questions for a while. 


The Reception, 275 

Soon after her return, Amy one Sunday felt moved 
to compose an 

ODE TO PRINCE. 

Prince is my cat 

Who has shining eyes ; 

She ’s not very fat, 

But still she is wise. 

In the evening she prowleth ’round 
In the dark ; 

And to the mouse’s squeak 
Doth hark. 

Her coat is like 
A tabby cat’s, 

And she doth love 
To lie on mats. 

Her little toes and cunning nose 
Are very interesting ; 

When she is left out in the rain, 

She finds it quite depressing. 

I close this ‘ode at my abode, 

Whereat the Prince is dwelling. 

And what will happen to her next, 

I ’m sure there ’s no foretelling. 


I 


276 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


CHAPTEE XX. 


THE GIRLS^ MUSICAL CLUB. 


OETUNATELY, after their return home, there 



was still some time for the children to play 
together outdoors before the schools began, and they 
improved to the utmost the delightful days of early 
autumn. The public schools began first, and poor 
Kitty went like Bryant’s quarry slave at night, 
‘‘scourged to his dungeon,” while Amy and Irene 
appreciated all the more by contrast their own free- 
dom for two weeks longer. While Kitty and Laura 
were at school, they played dolls, made wonderful 
doll costumes, and devised many sports for which the 
days were all too short. 

One of their iudoor games was this. Each wrote 
several questions and dropped them into a box, also 
several words. The box was well shaken; then each 
drew out a word and a question, and must write a 
poem answering her question and bringing in the 
word, a task that often seemed impossible, and 
required some ingenuity. 

For instance, Amy drew the word “pillow,” and 
the question, “When did you love?” This was her 
answer : — 


The QiM Musical Club, 


277 


I first did love 

When I first saw my chickens ! 

But the dickens, the dickens, 

What shall I do when they die? 

I shall cry and cry, 

With a “ tear in my eye,” 

Then bury them under a weeping willow, 

And make their feathers into a pillow. 

Another question she drew was, “What do you 
have at home?’^ and the word “snow,” whereon she 
wrote, — 

I have my friends 
When I ’m at home, 

And oft about 

The fields we roam ; 

And in the winter, 

Doion we go. 

Coasting on 
The melting snow ! 

Another of the girls’ amusements was to write a 
noun and adjective beginning with the same letter, a 
pair for each letter of the alphabet, and then give 
them to each other to illustrate. Amy, for “chair, 
cowardly,” drew two girls standing on chairs in fright 
at a mouse. “Apple, angry,” represented a boy 
climbing a tree, with his hand just grasping a large 
apple, not seeing a woman beneath who was about to 
apply a big whip in her hand. “Maiden, mad,” was 
a scene from Hamlet. “Gate, graceful,” was a 
country scene, where a young man was helping a 
young lady over a gate. 

One afternoon Amy, who had wondered that she 
had not seen Irene that day , received a note , brought 
by Mr. Green. 


278 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

Dear Amy, — I have a most atrocious cold, and have n’t 
been out of the house in a perfect age, it seems to me, and I 
would be delighted beyond expression if you would be so kind 
and condescending as to come over and play with me this 
afternoon. Will you ?????? ? 

1 do not know what you will think of me when I tell you 
that I am reading “ Little Women ” for the fifth time 1 

School commences to-morrow, — delightful prospect. (Here 
was drawn a girl’s face dissolved in a flood of tears.) I must 
close now. Do come if you can. 

Your loving friend, 

Irene. 

A blot which trickled across the page was labelled, 
“The Mississippi Kiver.” 

Amy accepted this invitation, and time passed 
happily with the invalid until four o’clock, when 
Kitty came running in, on her way home from school, 
full of a new scheme. 

“Oh, girls,” she said, “I have such a nice plan! 
Let ’s get up a girls’ musical club! ” 

Amy and Irene, always ready for new enterprises, 
were both charmed with this idea. 

“We can meet every other Saturday at one of our 
houses,” continued Kitty. “Every one must play 
something every time. Then we can have some- 
thing to eat, and then we might finish off by playing 
games.” 

“I think it will be perfectly delightful,” said 
Irene. 

“I ’m so glad you thought of it, Kitty,” said Amy. 
“Who shall we have in it? ” 

“You and Irene and I, that’s three; and Laura, of 
course, and Janet.” 


The G-irls^ Musical Club, 279 

Frida plays very nicely, if she is a little younger,” 
said Amy. 

“Well, we’ll ask her. And we might ask May 
Morgan. That will be seven. That’s enough, I 
think. I ’m sure it ’s all I want to play before.” 

“But May doesn’t play the piano,” said Amy. 

“I know it; but I talked it over with her at school 
to-day, and she wants to join the club awfully. And 
she is such a nice girl, I thought we should all want 
her in it.” 

“Yes, of course we do,” said Amy. 

“She might read a selection,” said Irene. 

“Yes, so she can,” said Kitty. 

Kitty and Amy went out at once to see the girls , 
and secure the members of the new club, who all fell 
in with the scheme enthusiastically. From that 
day practising was taken up with new energy and 
interest, as each member of the club wished to do 
her best at the first meeting, which was to be held at 
Kitty’s. The mothers, in view of this fresh zeal for 
practising, could but approve of the new club, and 
agree to provide the necessary refreshments. 

In due time, Amy’s school began. While sorry to 
lose her freedom and be a slave to “nine o’clock” 
once more, she was glad to meet again her teachers 
and her schoolmates, especially Marguerite. Although 
they sat in the same desk, there was never half time 
to say all they wished, and frequent notes were ex- 
changed, like this, which Marguerite brought to 
school one morning, when Amy had been absent for 
a few days, and laid on Amy’s arithmetic after 
prayers : — 


280 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


Dear Amy, — So you are back, at last, and right welcome, 
too ! I am so glad to see you. It was decidedly lonely to sit 
here alone. How do you like our new desk ? I like it very 
well ; on the whole, it does not matter much where we sit, 
does it? 

We went down to see Hermann Saturday. Some of the 
things he does are wonderful. We went with Aunt Marie, 
but her Ned could not go because he had a bad cold, and 
they feared croup. Colds are “ a la mode ” now, “ n’est 
pas ? ” Am I not elegant ? 

As you have so kindly asked me to the musical club meeting 
at your house, Miss Alter thinks that you and I can learn 
a duet or two to play together. She brought me a book of 
very simple ones that are all the same very pretty, and I have 
learned the lower part of two. Would you like to learn what 
I call the “ top part ’’ ? 

Oh, for fear you should think there is an estrangement 
between myself and a certain lovely foreigner here, I will say 
that I had to write a story in French for my lesson the third 
period yesterday. Mademoiselle told me I might translate it 
from the English, and also said that she preferred “la 
qualite ” to “la quantite,'” and when I handed in my story, 
she marked it “ parfait ! ” Was n’t that charming? 1 dearly 
love her. 

I am really writing this note to ask you if you will come 
home from school with me to-morrow to luncheon, and spend 
the afternoon ? Do come, and do write me a good long 
answer to this, and tell me how your new musical club is get- 
ting on. With love, your cousin 

Marguerite. 

P. S. We are reading “Macaulay’s History of England ” 
aloud evenings. Ever read it ? Not bad. 

M. S. 

Did you hear that H. B. hurt herself in the gymnasium 
Friday ? Observe this flourish ! We had it in writing lesson 
the other day.” 


The GrirW Musical Club. 


281 


There was no refusing this invitation, and so Amy 
and Marguerite walked happily home together from 
school next day. 

Theo seemed unusually hungry at luncheon that 
day, and ate more than usual, so that, when he 
stopped, his mother said, laughingly, — 

“Couldn’t you be persuaded to try something 
more, Theo?” 

“No, thank you,” said Theo. “I am afraid it 
would stick in my esophagus.” 

Of course Amy laughed at this, and Marguerite 
said, — 

“Theo is studying physiology this term, and he is 
always displaying his knowledge.” 

“ I hope he does n’t feel as Lily Hoffner said she 
did last year, when she began physiology,” said Amy. 
“She said she couldn’t sleep nights for thinking 
about her bones! I don’t believe I should enjoy 
physiology.” 

After luncheon Marguerite showed Amy many 
beautiful things they had brought home from Europe, 
which interested Amy greatly, especially a dozen 
or more dolls dressed in the native costumes of 
the countries Marguerite had visited. Then Amy 
said, — 

“Oh, Marguerite, I ’m writing a grammar story! ” 

“A grammar story?” said Marguerite. “What is 
that? I thought you detested grammar.” 

“So I do,” said Amy. “I can’t endure it, and 
that ’s the reason I ’m trying to make it interesting.” 

She read aloud to Marguerite and Theo the 


282 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


GRAMMAR STORY. 

Mother Grammar , — Now let us meet and see 
what we are good for. Sir Adjective, you may 
begin. 

^''Adjective. — Ladies and gentlemen, it is plain to 
see what I am good for. I tell the nature, good or 
bad, the color, size, and shape. Madame Interjection 
has the floor. 

^^Interjection . — The very idea that I should have 
to tell what I do! I exclaim in trouble, joy, or sur- 
prise, as ‘Ah!’ ‘Oh!’ ‘Dear me!’ ‘How nice!’ 

And now, proud Participle, you may speak. 

Participle. — And have I not reason to be proud? 
My ancestors were Verbs; and the noble Sir Adjec- 
tive, whom you all honor and respect, is my great- 
grandfather. I share in both their natures. Little 
Preposition, you may speak. 

“ Preposition. — I’m not so little after all, Mr. 
Participle. I always go before a Noun or Pronoun. 

Mother Grammar. — Now, gentle Conjunction, 
’tis your turn to speak. 

“ Conjunction. — I only join together. 

Mother Grammar . — And joining is the best of 
all. The meeting now will close. But first, let me 
advise you all to be modest like Conjunction.” 

“Capital! ” said Marguerite. 

“That’s very good, Amy,” Theo condescended to 
say. “But come on outdoors now and I will show 
you something better than dolls or stories either. 
Come and see my new dog.” 

“Oh, Dash?” said Amy. “Marguerite has told 


The Giirls* Musical Club, 283 

me about him, and I envy you. 1 want a dog so 
badly.” 

^‘Dash is none of your common dogs,” said Theo, 
as he led the way out into the pleasant back 'yard, 
where Dash, eagerly waiting, rushed to meet his 
young master the instant the door opened, and 
jumped all over him. He was a pure shepherd dog, 
of high breed, as the great ruft of brown hair en- 
circling his neck and setting off his intelligent face 
at once proclaimed. The children ran and played all 
the afternoon under the big beech-trees with Dash. 

When Amy left for home. Marguerite gave her a 
white ivory inkstand, carved in the image of a Swiss 
chalet, which she had brought from Switzerland ex- 
pressly for her; and it was arranged that Marguerite 
should attend the next meeting of the Musical Club, 
to be held at Amy’s the following Saturday. 

The first meeting at Kitty’s had been very success- 
ful. Eob and the other boys, feeling hurt at being 
omitted from the high privileges the young ladies 
were enjoying, especially the refreshments, had run 
up on the porch during the exercises, peeped in at 
the parlor windows, and clapped loudly at the end of 
each piece. But the girls would not condescend from 
the dignity of their club to take any notice of them , 
so finally the boys had departed to seek livelier sport, 
and were soon engaged in “shinny,” the game just 
then popular among them. 

The following Saturday, Mrs. Strong’s parlor, full 
of bright young girls prettily dressed in their best, 
was a pleasant sight. Mrs. Strong, who considerately 
sat in the library lest she should embarrass the young 
performers, was amused at the conversation. Each 


284 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

made as many excuses as if she had been a distin- 
guished musician. 

Laura, you play first,’’ said Amy. 

“Oh, no, I don’t want to play first,” said Laura. 
“ I think you ought to begin, Amy, because you are 
hostess.” 

“I don’t believe I know this piece,” said Amy, as 
she sat down to the piano. “You mustn’t mind my 
mistakes, girls.” 

She really played very well. Then Kitty was 
asked to perform. 

“I know I shall break down in the middle of this 
thing,” she said; “I don’t half know it. You may 
talk all you want to, girls, while I play.” 

But Kitty went through her piece much better 
than she professed to expect. The duet by Amy and 
Marguerite was much applauded, as indeed was 
everything played. There was much giggling and 
chattering between times. 

May Morgan , as her contribution to the afternoon, 
read one of Longfellow’s poems with excellent ex- 
pression. Once, however, she stopped, saying, — 

“Dear me, girls, here ’s a word I don’t know how 
to pronounce.” 

“Pronounce it as it’s spelled,” suggested Irene. 

Now this is sometimes a safe rule in the English 
language, but not always, as May found. Her word 
was “ harangued.” May divided it into syllables, and 
called it, “ha-m/i-gewd,” to rhyme with “glued,” 
which made some of the older girls laugh. But as 
every one laughed all the time any way. May’s feel- 
ings were not hurt; indeed, she laughed with the 
rest. 


The Grirls^ Musical Club. 


285 


Amy had prepared a short adjective story for the 
girls^ entertainment before they came. While they 
were sipping their chocolate, she asked them to give 
her adjectives, which she wrote in her blanks. The 
girls strove to see who could invent the worst adjec- 
tives, and Sir Adjective must have blushed for some 
of the pretenders masquerading under his name. 

The story began , — 

“It was a red Saturday on 'pigeon-toed Hillside 
Avenue. At three o’clock the sorry musical club met 
at the kind residence of the high-flown Mrs. Clover. 
The hump-hacked Kitty received her villanous guests 
in the ridiculous drawing-room of her foolish home. 
Her black brother Kob was absent, — at least, so 
she cantankerously thought. Religious Miss Kitty 
Clover received in an aristocratic, snake-colored dress. 
Miss Irene Brownell looked perfectly carnivorous 
in a big, freckled costume. Miss Laura Dawson 
looked as musical as usual in a slimy-eyed gown. 
Miss May Morgan was, as she always is, snub- 
nosed, as were also unmerciful Miss Janet Frazier 
and the ghostly Miss Frida Goldschmidt. The miser- 
able entertainment was opened by the ungrateful 
Mhss Frazier, the horriblest player of the club. Her 
hateful fingers ran over the perfect keys in a yellow 
manner.” 

The story described minutely the playing of each 
performer, and ended, — 

“Just as the last terrific chords were dying away 
under the hideous hands of the lavender musicians, 
a squalid roar was heard, and down the squeaky 
stairs mournfully rushed gorgeous Bob Clover, who 


286 A Jolly Good Summer. 

had sorrowfully secreted his silly self upstairs with 
the other quiet boys of the noisy avenue, — immense 
Ben Bruce, gigantic Paul Williams, monstrous Max 
Goldschmidt, awful Van Gooding, and righteous 
Elliot Carman. Infuriated by the blunt perform- 
ance, they only needed the last blood-curdling duet 
to drive them slippery. Falling upon the disgust- 
ing members of the radiant club, they considerately 
dashed them into aching, commonplace pieces. This 
was the comfortable end of the mild little Musical 
Club.” 

Amy laughed so hard she with difficulty read this 
delightful tale, and the other girls nearly laughed 
themselves ill over it, especially when some particu- 
larly undesirable adjective fell to the lot of the girl 
who had exerted herself to invent it for some one 
else’s benefit. Then they played games, and tried 
catches, as to see who could’ say fastest, without 
mistake, — 

“She sells sea-shells. Shall he sell sea-shells?” 

“Now, girls, let’s dance,” said Amy. “Irene, 
please help me move this table back.” 

Tables and chairs were moved away in a trice. 
The folding-doors were pushed back, throwing parlor 
and hall into one. The girls took turns playing 
waltzes and polkas, and around and around floated 
the merry couples, their hair flying out as they 
danced, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, their hearts as 
light as their tripping feet. Professor Strong could 
not help thinking it a very pretty sight, when he 
opened his front door, and walked unexpectedly into 
the midst of the lightly whirling couples. 


The CrirW Musical Club, 


287 


“Oh, papa, you don^t mind our dancing, do you?” 
asked Amy, flushed, and out of breath. 

“Certainly not, Amy; I like to see you. Dance 
on ,” said her father, looking smilingly down on the 
happy company. 

But now Marguerite was sent for, and the girls 
discovered, to their surprise, that it was nearly six 
o’clock, and departed with many assurances, — 

“We have had a perfectly lovely time, Amy. The 
adjective story was so funny.” 

“Don’t you think our musical club is a very nice 
thing, mamma?” asked Amy, when the last guest 
was gone, and she and her mother were replacing 
tables and chairs. “Don’t you think it is really 
going to be very improving?” 

“Well, perhaps,” said her mother. “I am very 
sure you all enjoy it.” 

“Isn’t Cousin Elizabeth kind? She is going to 
invite the club there, although none of her children 
belong to it. And after we have practised more we 
mean to give a musicale, and ask all the parents, 
and charge an admission, to raise money for the 
Associated Charities, so you see we shall really do 
good.” 


288 


A Jolly Good Summer. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

NEBRASKA FRIENDS. 

O XE Saturday morning in Xovember, Amy called 
across from her window to Kitty, — 

“ Oh, Kitty, come over here a minute. I ’ve just 
had such a nice letter from Jared.’’ 

“Oh, have you? Is n’t it funny? I had one from 
Tommy this morning, too.” 

Tommy and Jared were some new friends lately 
made, who lived in far-off Nebraska. Mrs. Taylor, 
the pastor’s wife, had received letters from a lady 
who, with an invalid husband and five children, had 
gone from New England to live in Nebraska. 
Drought, hail, and other disasters had destroyed 
their crops for three successive summers, and this 
family of intelligent, refined people were now in 
destitution. 

Some of the letters had been read at Sunday-school, 
and the kind hearts of Kitty and Amy iiad become 
much interested in the children. That very Sun- 
day afternoon they sat down together, and wrote 
long letters to the two older boys, telling all about 
their acting and other amusements. Now had come 
the answers. Kitty and Rob both came over to hear 
Jared’s letter. 


Nebraska Friends, 


289 


These new friends lived on the prairie in a sod 
house, thirty miles from any town, store, or post-, 
office. The idea of children who seemed much like 
themselves, living without almost every comfort that 
was necessary to their own lives, enlisted strongly 
both the sympathy and the imagination of the 
children. 

“It seems like a story of pioneers, doesn’t it?” 
said Amy, 

“Such people are pioneers,” said Mrs. Strong. 

“I wonder how a sod house is made?” said 
Amy. 

“I asked Mrs. Johns about it in my last letter 
to her,” said Mrs. Strong, “and this is what she 
writes : — 

... I will describe our house to you, and the boys will tell 
the girls about the school-house. Ours is called a large 
house. It is fourteen feet wide, and twenty-six feet long. 
The sods are plowed on buffalo grass or blue joint to make 
them tough. Then they are cut in two feet lengths, and 
a wall laid up with them, like a brick wall. Rough boards 
covered with tarred paper, with a layer of sods on top, 
make the roof. We are fortunate, for we have a board floor. 
Many have none. Our house is plastered right on the sods 
with natural lime, which is found in these hills in places. 
They are rude affairs at best. Yet it is home, and I think it 
is not the dwelling that makes a happy home, but the inmates. 
My children are worth a mine of gold to me, and they will 
remember mother when all these hardships are a thing of the 
past. Your daughter and her little friend must be kind- 
hearted girls to wish to help brighten the lives of children less 
fortunate. The boys were delighted to receive their letters. 
Any little thing is a great event here with us. It is a very 
cold morning. I fear we are going to have another cold 
gtorm. Four of the children have gone to school this morn- 

19 


290 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

ing. It is a two-mile walk, and they are poorly protected to 
stand a cold storm. . . . 

“It must be fun to live in a house like that/’ said 
Eob. 

“Now let’s hear Jared’s letter, Amy,” said Kitty. 

Kitty and Eob had offered to send the boys their 
“Youth’s Campanion” each week when they were 
through reading it, and Amy also sent them a paper, 
and sometimes a magazine. 

-Jared’s letter said, — 

Dear Friends, — I received your letter, and was very glad 
to get it. I thank you for the papers. We like them very 
much. We play “I spy” too, and Indians, and other games. 
We do not have house games, and it is dull for us in cold 
weather. Carrie has a paper doll. We have two pet cats. 
One’s name is Minnie, and the other is Mose. We have 
some pigeons. I would like to have seen the parade. I am 
glad you have lots of fun. I am eleven years old. I have 
light hair and blue eyes too. Tommy loves to draw and read. 
I would like to take part in your plays. I like to speak 
pieces. I most always speak funny ones. Papa and mamma 
and us children have lots of fun, on cold winter nights, speaking 
and reading. Grandpa always dances old-fashioned jigs and 
makes us laugh. 

From your friend, 

Jared Johns. 

Tears stood in Mrs. Strong’s eyes when Amy 
finished reading the little letter, written evidently 
with great pains, in a boy’s scrawl. 

“Isn’t that a nice letter?” said Amy. “It makes 
me feel as if I knew 'Jared.” 

“One can see that he has a generous nature,” said 
her mother. “Instead of being envious of you chil- 


Nebraska Friends. 


291 


dren, who have so much more than he, and thinking, 
‘ It ’s a shame we can’t have such good times and 
things/ he says, ‘I am glad you have lots of fun.’ 
Think what a touching picture his letter paints, — 
the cold winter night, a blizzard perhaps howling 
around the little sod-house all alone on the prairie, 
and, within, the family so destitute of even ordinary 
comforts, keeping up each other’s spirits, and making 
the best of things, cheering themselves by their own 
brightness, and that old grandpa dancing his jigs to 
make the children laugh! That family will come to 
something one of these days. They are made of the 
right stuff.” 

“Perhaps Jared or Tommy will be President,” said 
Eob. 

“That is not impossible,” said Mrs. Strong. 
“Abraham Lincoln came from much such a home as 
theirs. Now, Kitty, let us hear what Tommy has 
to say.” 

“Tommy’s letter is very interesting, too,” said 
Kitty. 

“I like it,” said Eob, “because it tells about real 
Indians; only I wish he had told more about them.” 

Tommy’s letter began, — 

Dear Frlend. — I received your letter and was very glad 
to hear from you. I thank you for it, and also for the “ Youth’s 
Companion.” I am glad to get it. Two years ago the Indians 
were on the war path, and we did not know what minute they 
would come down on us. You ask about my school-house. It 
is made of sods, and has only ten seats, There is no chimney, 
but a hole in the roof for a stove-pipe. To build a house 
they first plough where the sod is tough, and cut it in two foot 
lengths and then lay it up in walls. Then they get natural 
lime from the hills to plaster it, and put on rough boards for 


292 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

roof, covered with tar-paper and dirt. We have one small 
blackboard. We have just had a blizzard, and it is awful cold. 
I am going to town with papa the next time he goes. It 
takes a whole day to go to town, and there are no houses for 
eighteen miles on the road. I went all alone once, and drove 
our team. Mamma worried, but I did not get lost. Jared has 
a sore thumb to-day, so he could not write very well. About 
a year ago he got some cactus needles in it, and every little 
while they work out and make it sore. Write soon again. 

Your friend, 

Tommy Johns. 

“His mother must be silly to worry about a boy 
thirteen years old getting lost,” said Rob; “he only 
had to keep in the road. And if he did get on the 
wrong road, he could ask some one the way.” 

“You forget, Eob,” said Mrs. Strong, “that it is 
all open prairie where he lives ; no fences, no trees , 
no roads, only tracks worn here and there. And if 
there are no houses for eighteen miles, he probably 
did not meet a person on the way. I don’t wonder 
his mother was anxious. Grown people often lose 
their way on those prairies, and sometimes perish 
during a blizzard. Often the only way they can do 
is to give their horses the reins, and trust to their 
instinct to bring them out.” 

“Anyway,” said Eob, “it must be fun to start out 
and feel that you are going to have some adventure, 
perhaps, before you get back.” 

“The Woman’s Alliance will send Mrs. Johns a 
large barrel of clothing soon,” said Mrs. Strong. 
“What a pleasant thing it would be for our Sunday- 
school to get up a Christmas box to send these chil- 
dren! I will speak to the superintendent about it.” 


Nehraslca Friends. 


293 


“Oh, do, mamma,” said Amy. “I will send 
Tommy some drawing-blocks and pencils, because 
he loves to draw, and I will buy a doll, and dress 
her for little Carrie. Think of her having only one 
paper doll ! ” 

“I will send Jared my game of nine-pins,” said 
Rob. “ They can all play with that winter evenings.” 

“I shall send Tommy some nice writing-paper, and 
a book, and some good game,” said Kitty. 

“And I shall certainly send something to the 
grandpa who dances jigs to amuse the children,” 
said Mrs. Strong. “My heart warms towards that 
old grandpa.” 

Jared’s and Tommy’s letters were read next Sunday 
to the Sunday-school, and many of the children raised 
their hands when asked who would bring something 
for the Christmas box to be sent to Nebraska. The 
Sunday-school children were also greatly interested 
in a fair to be held by them early in December; the 
first they had ever held, and therefore a great event. 

Rob’s imagination was fired by the glimpse the 
Nebraska letters had given him of life on the prairies. 
He wondered if he could build a sod house ; but, after 
digging a little back of the stable , gave that plan up, 
and came in to propose to the girls , — 

“ Come on down to the stable , girls, and play be 
farmers in Nebraska.” 

As they all came outdoors they met Irene and 
Janet coming over to play. They, too, were charmed 
with this game, because it was something new. Duke 
followed them down to the stable, evidently resolved 
to be in the play, whatever it might be. 

“We’ll take the stable for our settlement,” said 


294 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

Kitty. “Each of us can take a stall for her house. 
Play we are a little settlement of four sod houses on 
the prairie.’’ 

“ I ’ll keep the store,” said Rob. “Play it is thirty 
miles to my store. You can take my roller coaster 
for your farm wagon, and you must come across the 
prairie to buy goods of me.” 

Rob started down into the hollow back of the 
stable to build his store, closely followed by Duke. 

“Duke ought to stay here,” said Kitty. “Dogs 
belong more on a farm than they do in a store.” 

“Duke is my partner,” said Rob. “Of course I 
must have a partner. Our firm is Clover and Co., 
and Duke is the Co.” 

The new firm went down the hill. Rob found two 
large packing-boxes in the stable, which, arranged in 
the fence corner, made fine counters. Then from 
the riches of the hollow he collected enough old tin 
cans, broken bottles, and the like, to stock his 
counters richly. The Co. followed closely at his 
heels , apparently taking an intelligent interest in all 
the business of the firm. 

“We ’re all ready for business,” called Rob up the 
hill. 

“ I have to go to town to buy some furniture at the 
store to-day,” said Kitty. “Will you drive over 
with me, Amy ?” 

“Yes, I need to go too,” said Amy, “for my coal 
is almost gone, and winter is coming, and we can’t 
get any coal nearer than thirty miles.” 

“You must guard the settlement while we are 
gone,” said Kitty to the other girls. “The Indians 
might come around any time, you know.” 


Nebraska Friends. 


295 


“We will keep a good watch,” said Irene. 

Amy and Kitty started for town with the roller 
coaster, after the affectionate leave-taking that be- 
came those who were surrounded by so many dangers. 
Their fellow-settlers stood in the door and waved 
their hands as they started briskly off, saying, — 

“ I hope you won’t get lost on the prairies, or meet 
any Indians.” 

It took active imaginations to convert the steep 
hill-side down to the hollow into an open prairie, but 
the girls were equal to the occasion. They rambled 
around and around the Clovers’ back yard, lost on the 
prairie, and Amy wrung her hands, crying, “We are 
lost ! ” in such high tragic fashion that Kitty could 
not help laughing. But now up from the hollow 
came a protest, in the voice of the senior partner, — 

“ Why don’t you come on and buy something? I ’m 
tired of waiting here so long for you! ” 

The rest of the thirty miles was quickly travelled 
over, and the roller coaster was loaded with large 
purchases of tin Cans and old bottles, paid for liber- 
ally with gravel coin from the driveway, and bank 
bills from the syringa bush. 

“When you get home,” said Kob, “play it is night. 
Then Duke and I will be the Indians, and come and 
attack the settlement.” 

“Oh, what do you think?” said Irene, when they 
reached home. “We have seen several of the most 
savage Indians lurking about ! ” 

“We shall probably be attacked to-night,” said 
Kitty. “We must lock our doors carefully.” 

“Yes, and I think we had best sleep on our arms,” 
said Amy. 


296 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

The stable doors were locked, and then the girls 
went to bed, each in her own stall. Before long 
there came a great banging at the door, accompanied 
by fierce war-whoops, and the loud barking of a dog. 

“Oh, what shall we do? The Indians are upon 
us ! ’’ cried the girls. 

They were indeed, for Kob, his imagination wholly 
possessed by the game, felt like a real Indian for the 
time being. Finding all the doors locked, he climbed 
up to a small window, and actually began to smash 
the glass with the hatchet which served him as a 
tomahawk, while Duke barked and bounced about 
below, in high approval of these vigorous proceed- 
ings. Shrieks came from the stable,— 

“Eob Clover, are you crazy?” 

From the house was heard Mrs. Clover’s voice, 
calling, — 

“Eob, what are you doing? Stop this instant.” 

Thus recalled to himself, Eob, looking a little 
abashed, said, — 

“ Why, you see, mamma, the girls are settlers, and 
I’m attacking them. I’m an Indian, and I have to 
get at them.” 

“Come into the house,” said his mother j “I want 
to talk with you.” 

This ended the fine game of “being farmers in 
Nebraska.” Amy, after telling her mother about it, 
said, — 

“ I think Eob entered into the character too 
naturally.” 

In this opinion Mr. Clover probably agreed, as 
Eob had to pay for new glass in the stable window 
from his own pocket-money. 


Nebraska Friends. 


297 


Professor aud Mrs. Strong were going out to spend 
the evening that night, and Amy begged that she 
might be allowed to ask Kitty to stay overnight 
with her, for company. Mrs. Clover consented to 
let Kitty come, and the girls no doubt had a merry 
time before they went to sleep, for when Mrs. Strong 
returned from her concert, and went in to see that 
the children were all right, the state of the bed- 
clothes indicated that there had been a lively com- 
motion, and beside Amy, lying close to her on a 
chair, was an old sword from her collection, while 
Kitty’s hand, even in sleep, still grasped one of 
Amy’s Indian clubs. 

Amy said in explanation next morning, — 

“Playing Indian made us nervous, I guess. At 
any rate, Kitty said she heard queer noises, and then 
I thought I heard them; and the girls were way 
down in the kitchen. So I told Kitty we had best 
arm ourselves. Besides, I wanted to use my sword 
that Uncle Cosgrove sent me.” 


298 


A Jolly Good Summer, 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE MOTHER GOOSE PLAY. 

T he children were now ranch absorbed in prepa- 
rations for the Sunday-school fair. Mrs. Strong 
had undertaken to drill some of the children in a 
Mother Goose performance, which was to be part of 
the entertainment, and Amy and Kitty were quite 
undecided which they most wished to do, take part 
in the play, or have a table. But when the candy- 
table was offered them, they no longer hesitated. 

“We can act some other time, perhaps,” said Amy, 
“but we might never be asked to take the candy- 
table again. Some of the young ladies always want 
the candy -table. I think it will be fun.” 

“So do I,” said Kitty. “Papa says he will give 
us five pounds of nice candies to sell.” 

“Mamma says she will give us a large box of 
Mullane’s molasses taffy,” said Amy. “Mrs. Hilton 
has given us three dollars to buy candy. And won’t 
Maud make some of her nice, home-made candies 
Tor us?” 

“Yes, she said she would. And Ben Bruce says 
his sister Josie will make a lot too. Ben is going 
to print all the tickets for the fair. You know he 
always does.” 


299 


The Mother Goose Play. 

So the prospects for the candy -table looked bright. 

Rose Carman’s little ones were to have a doll-table, 
the work being done mostly by their teacher, who 
had a gift for dressing dolls. When Miss Carman’s 
small men dolls, in their cunning dress-suits, were 
offered for sale , every little girl in the church wanted 
one, and there proved not to be half enough to go 
around. Miss Potter’s class had the fancy-table, 
and the boys had a lemonade and peanut stand. Ben 
Bruce and Max Goldschmidt were the door-keepers. 

Mrs. Strong had the usual difficulties invariably 
attending amateur theatricals. At the rehearsals 
some of the little actors were sure to be absent, and 
some did not know their lines, and some wanted to 
be something else, and it was found absolutely impos- 
sible to persuade any of the big boys to be “ Simple 
Simon,” lest the other boys should call the unlucky 
actor “Simple Simon” for ever afterwards. But 
somehow all these difficulties were finally overcome, 
as they always are, in spite of the manager’s despair, 
only Simple Simon’s scene had to be omitted. 

When the afternoon of the fair arrived, the church 
vestry was an attractive picture, swarming with chil- 
dren, all dressed in their best. The candy-table, 
behind which stood black-eyed Kitty and blue-eyed 
Amy, both dressed in white, and all smiles and 
animation, was a centre of attraction. The girls 
put a low price on their wares, and gave liberal 
measure. 

“If I were buying candy, I know I should like to 
get a good deal for my money,” said Amy. 

“So should I,” said Kitty; “and I think we ought 
to do as we would be done by.” 


800 


A Jolly G-ood Summer, 

Conducted on these benevolent principles, the candy 
perhaps went at a sacrifice, but the children were 
happy, and that, after all, was the main object of the 
fair. 

The vestry was crowded. From behind the curtain 
of the small stage at one end of the room came the 
sound of a great buzzing of voices , of laughing and 
running about, that raised the expectations of the 
audience on the outside almost beyond endurance. 
The stage was so small, and so overflowing with 
excited children, and with mothers and big sisters 
putting the last touches to costumes, and giving the 
last charges, that Mrs. Strong felt almost distracted. 

On all sides could be heard, 

“Now, Johnny, don’t forget to cry aloud when you 
come on.” 

“Lily, stand up straight, and be careful not to 
wrinkle your dress.” 

“Be sure to speak up loud, Dixon, so people can 
hear you,” and so on. 

“Now, children,” said Mrs. Strong, “it is time for 
the curtain to go up, and you must keep in order. 
All come into this room, and I will arrange you as 
you are to appear, and Jennie will tell you when to 
come on. Don’t show yourselves until she calls you 
to come.” 

Jennie Briggs, one of the large girls in Mrs. 
Strong’s class, was to take charge of the little green- 
room on one side the stage, while Ethel Hansom, on 
the other side, was to take the performers in her care 
as they left the stage, and keep them pent up, if she 
could, in a small room at the left, out of sight of the 
audience. 


301 


The Mother G-oose Play, 

It was a hard task to suppress the children. They 
were so excited, and so eager to see everything, 
that trying to get them into one room and keep them 
there, was much like trying to sweep up feathers in 
a fine breeze. 

Dixon was especially irrepressible; he was here, 
there, everywhere, except in his proper place. 
Finally Mrs. Strong said, — 

“Jennie, you must take hold of Dixon, and keep 
hold of him until it is time for him to come on. I 
believe we are all ready now. ’Sh, children! you 
mustn^t even whisper now. The curtain is going 
up.” 

The play was founded on “ The Lawrence Mother 
Goose,” published by Lee and Shepard; but being, 
as a whole, too elaborate for such young performers , 
Mrs. Strong had simplified and changed it, so that 
the play now ran in this wise. 

The curtain rising disclosed Hester Cary, a young 
girl from Mrs. Strong’s class, arrayed as Mother 
Goose, in a bright-flowered gown and skirt, a high 
pointed cap, and with the other familiar appoint- 
ments of that well-known lady. On one side the 
stage stood Little Boy Blue, beside his haycock. 
He and Mother Goose made the opening poetical 
addresses, taken from the “Lawrence Mother Goose.” 

Boy Blue was to blow his horn and announce the 
various characters. He first announced, — 

“Bo-Peep.” 

On came one of the little girls of the Sunday- 
school, dressed as a dainty shepherdess, with a hat 
all roses, and a crook all ribbons. Her eyes were 
covered; she was weeping, in deep grief. 


302 


A Jolly G-ood Summer. 

Mother Goose , — “What is the matter, Bo-Peep? 
Why are you crying so hard? ” 

Bo-Peep recited the verses telling her sorrows. 
When she came to the words, — 

“ Leave them alone, and they ’ll come home, 

Bringing their tails behind them,” 

a toy sheep was rolled upon the stage from the side 
scene, which Bo-Peep seized with joy, and pressing 
it fondly in her arms, retired amid the loud applause 
of the audience. 

Boy Blue next announced “Mistress Mary,” and 
on came, hand in hand, five of the tiniest little maids 
in the Sunday-school, very shy and winning in their 
white frocks, with little bells and flowers. 

Mother Goose : “ Mistress Mary, quite contrary, 

How does your garden groAV ? ” 

Mistress Mary : “ With cockle shells, and silver bells, 

And little maids all in a row, — ” 

waving her hand towards her attendants. 

“And a very pretty garden it is,” said Mother 
Goose, as the little maids curtesied and retired into 
the charge of Ethel. 

Boy Blue. — “The Maid of Pippin Hill.” 

Dixon and Claribel appeared, Dixon in a velvet 
suit, with a wide lace collar, red rosettes on his 
shoes, and wearing a cocked hat, while Claribel wore 
a cunning little Greenaway bonnet trimmed with 
roses, and a gown and petticoat of blue silk. 

Dixon recited, — 

“ As I was going up Pippin Hill, 

Pippin Hill was dirty. 

There I met a pretty maid, 

And she made me a courtesy.” 


303 


The Mother Goose Play, 

Here Dixon doffed his three-cornered hat, and swept 
the ground with it in a deep bow, while Claribel 
made an equally profound courtesy, and then hid her 
blushes behind a large fan, as Dixon continued, — 

“ Little miss, pretty miss, 

Blessings light upon you ! 

If I had half a crown a day, 

I ’d spend it all upon you.” 

They made a farewell bow and courtesy to the 
audience, and retired amid much applause to the left, 
where Mrs. Strong, who was acting as prompter, 
made haste to seize Dixon and keep a firm hold of 
him. 

“Little Ked Eiding Hood,” proclaimed Boy Blue, 
and on tripped another little damsel, wrapped in a 
scarlet hood and cloak, with the basket of dainties 
for her grandmother on her arm. 

Mother Goose. — “Where are you going so bright 
and early, Eed Eiding Hood?” 

Bed Biding Hood. — “To see my grandmother.” 

Mother Goose. — “ And what are you carrying 
her?” 

Bed Biding Hood. — “Oh, something nice.” 

Mother Goose. — “You are a very little girl to be 
going all the way through the woods to your grand- 
mother’s cottage alone. Are n’t you afraid of meet- 
ing the wolf?” 

Bed Biding Hood. — “Oh, I’m not afraid of the 
wolf. I should run away so fast he could n’t catch 
me.” 

And suiting the action to the word, she ran gaily 
off the stage. 

Boy Blue. — “Jack and Jill.” 


304 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

Enter Bryant Taylor in evident pain, holding his 
forehead, which was half covered with a brown paper 
plaster. Dainty little Nellie Shaw, as Jill, came 
with him, her head bound with a handkerchief. 
They carried a pail of water between them. 

Jill, in a sorrowful tone, said, — 

"Jack and Jill went up the hill [^pointing back to the 
To get a pail of water.” 

J ack continued, — 

" Jack felt down and broke his crown \here he held his head as 

if in pain]> 

And Jill came tumbling after.” 

Bryant related this touching event in a matter-of- 
fact, earnest tone, as if it had actually happened. 

All the children laughed, those in the audience, and 
those peeping out around the sides of the stage, and 
Mother Goose tenderly inquired, — 

‘‘Have you had any doctor, Jack?” 

“Yes,” said Jack, in the same matter-of-fact 
tone, — 

" Dr. Foster came from Gloucester, 

In a shower of rain.” 

Now Mother Goose, looking off to the right, asked, — 

“ Who can this be coming on horseback. Boy 
Blue?” 

No answer, for Boy Blue had gone to sleep. 

Mother Goose. — “I never! If that boy is n^t 
under his haycock fast asleep! Wake up. Boy Blue; 
come, blow your horn, or the cow T1 be in the meadow, 
the sheep in the corn ! ” 

Boy Blue, yawning sleepily, rubbing his eyes, and 
stretching, woke up, and, as little Gretchen Westman 


305 


The Mother Goose Play, 

was drawn upon the stage by her big brother, on a 
large white rocking-horse, Boy Blue, pointing at 
Gretchen, recited, — 

“Eide a cock horse, 

To Banbury Cross, 

To see a young lady upon a white horse ; 

Kings on her fingers. 

And bells on her toes. 

She will have music wherever she goes.” 

As she was drawn off the stage, Gretchen, who 
wore a pretty fancy costume, waved a staff' covered 
with little bells, which she held in her ring-laden 
hands. 

Gretchen^s brother Carroll and her little Sister 
Helena now came in, both crying, while Carroll 
slowly rang a large dinner-bell which he carried. 
At the same time their big brother Willis quietly 
stepped on the scene, and stood behind a cask in the 
rear of the stage, covered with green vines to repre- 
sent a well. 

Mother Goose. — “ Dear me, here are some more of 
my children in trouble. I wonder what ails them all 
to-day? What is the matter, children?” 

Carroll, slowly tolling his bell, — 

“ Ding, dong bell, — 

Pussy ’s in the well ; ” 

Helena : “ Who put her in ? ” 

Cart'oll : ' “ Little Johnny Green.” 

Helena : “ Who pulled her out ? ” 

Here, amid the laughter of the audience, Willis 
pulled up from the depths of the well a large calico 
20 


306 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

cat, and held her dangling by the string around her 
neck, as Carroll, pointing at him, said, — 

“ Big Johnny Stout.” 

Helena, in a tone of deep feeling, said, — 

What a naughty boy was that 
To drown poor pussy cat, 

Who never did him any harm 

But killed the mice in his father’s barn ! ” 

Boy Blue (with a flourish of his horn.') — “Little 
Jack Horner.” 

Stanley Taylor was Jack. Stanley was such a 
dear little fellow, with such a round, honest face and 
rosy cheeks, and such a big head of his own, full of 
wisdom beyond his years, that he was a great favorite 
with the whole Sunday-school, and the children in 
front began to laugh as soon as he appeared, while 
the children behind the scenes burst away from Ethel 
and Jennie, and crowded forward, determined to see 
Stanley act. 

Mother Goose. — “I must bring out a pie at once, 
for Jacky loves pie. Here ’s your pie, Jacky.” 

A little chair had been placed in the front corner 
of the stage. Here Stanley seated himself, and re- 
ceived from Mother Goose a small saucer pie, on top 
of which were some large raisins. In his honest 
child’s voice he recited, — 

“ Little Jack Horner 
Sat in a corner, 

Eating a Christmas pie ; 

He put in his thumb 
And pulled out a plum, 

And said, ‘ What a good boy am I ! * ” 


307 


The Mother Goose Play, 

At rehearsals Stanley had been drilled, after put- 
ting in his thumb, to hold the plum up triumphantly 
to the admiring gaze of the audience, and so hold it 
until the end of the verse. But the plum was too 
great a temptation to Stanley ; only a fleeting glimpse 
of it had the audience. It was clapped hastily in 
his mouth, and his last lines were muffled in plum. 
But Stanley had even more than the usual “loud 
applause,” amid which he ran off the stage, and was 
soon curled up in his father’s arms, watching the 
rest of the performance. 

Boy Blue. — “Master Tommy Tucker.” 

Bob Clover appeared, dressed as a little Dutch boy, 
in wooden shoes, a blue frock, and a pointed cap with 
a tassel on its drooping end. Bob was one of the 
great features of the occasion. 

Mother Goose. — “ Tommy, you must sing for your 
supper.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to sing,” said Bob, most natu- 
rally. In truth, it had been with difficulty that his 
mother and Maude had induced him to take this 
part. 

Mother Goose. — “You must. You know you can’t 
have any supper unless you sing for it.” 

Bob then sang “Johnny Schmoker,” acting out 
each instrument as he named it, amidst the liveliest 
delight of the spectators. When he finished. Mother 
Goose presented him with a half loaf of white bread 
and a pat of butter. 

Tommy, gazing at the loaf dubiously, asked, — 

“How can I cut it without any knife?” 

Mother Goose. — “Just as easily as you can marry 
without any wife. Now run along, that ’s a good 
boy, and don’t bother me with any more questions.” 


308 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

Eob walked off, gnawing at bis loaf. Meantime, 
Boy Blue had gone to sleep. 

Mother Goose. — There ’s that Boy Blue under 
the haycock fast asleep again/ Eeally, Boy Blue, 
this will not answer at all. Here are more guests 
arriving, and you are not attending to your duty.’’ 

Boy Blue, jumping hastily up, seized his horn, 
blew a blast, and announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Jack 
Sprat.” 

Max Goldschmidt and his sister Brida came on 
dressed comically as an old man and woman. Max 
wearing a tall white hat, a red necktie, and a long 
coat, while Frida, in a long dress and a cap, had 
been made to look as fat as possible by stuffing out 
her gown. 

Mother Goose {shaking hands). — “I am delighted 
to see you, Mrs. Sprat. How do you do, Mr. Sprat? 
I hope you will stay to supper; it is just ready. 
Draw the table out. Boy Blue.” 

Boy Blue drew a small table, set for supper, to the 
front, and Mr. and Mrs. Sprat were seated, Mr. Sprat 
depositing his hat on the floor beside him, after 
drawing from it a huge red bandanna, and wiping his 
brow. Mr. Sprat offered his wife lean meat from 
the platter. 

Mrs. Sprat shuddered. “You know very well, Mr. 
Sprat,” she said, “that I can’t endure lean meat.” 

Mr. Sprat. — “Then I ’ll keep it myself.” 

Both ate greedily a few moments. Then Mrs. 
Sprat, extending a choice bit on her own fork, 
said, — 

“ Here ’s a delicious morsel of fat. Won’t you try 
it, love?” 


The Mother Goose Play. 309 

Mr. Sprat (angrily'). — “How often, Mrs. Sprat, 
must I tell you that I can eat 710 fat ? ” 

After eating very fast, each in turn seized the 
platter and scraped it hard. Then, with hasty good- 
byes, they departed, Mother Goose, who had watched 
them with evident displeasure, remarking to Boy 
Blue , — 

“How like them to eat and run! Those Sprats 
never did have any manners.” 

Now Boy Blue announced “Miss MufCet,” and in 
came little Eda Goldschmidt, daintily dressed in 
white. 

Mother Goose. — “ Miss Muffet, I am really afraid 
I haven’t any supper to offer you. Those greedy 
Sprats have actually ‘ licked the platter clean.’ (Boy 
Blue whispers to her.) Oh, yes, there is a bowl of 
curds and whey. Sit right down on the tuffet, and 
you shall have it.” 

Miss Muffet took the bowl, seated herself on a 
hassock in the centre of the stage, under the chande- 
lier, and began eating with much relish, while Boy 
Blue recited, — 

" Little Miss Muffet 
Sat on a tuffet, 

Eating curds and whey ; 

Along came a great spider 
And sat down beside her, 

And frightened Miss Muffet away.^* 

At the words “Along came a great spider,” a huge 
Japanese spider was slowly lowered from the chande- 
lier right above Eda. Eda, who had a real genius 
for acting, and was not without training in the Hill- 
side Avenue Dramatic Club, spied this monster with 


310 A Jolly Good Summer. 

what seemed unfeigned terror, dropped her bowl, 
screamed, drew her dress up about her, jumped fran- 
tically this way and that, and then fled far around 
the spider. 

When the laughter had subsided. Boy Blue re- 
marked, “Here comes a crazy woman, I should 
think.” One of the little Sunday-school children, 
quaintly dressed as an old woman, appeared bearing 
a broom aloft, with which she was so absorbed in 
sweeping the air above her head that she saw no one, 
thought of nothing else. 

Mother Goose . — “No wonder she is crazy. She 
is the identical old woman who was tossed up in a 
blanket, seventy times as high as the moon.” 

Then, addressing her, — 

Old woman, old woman, quoth I, 

Oh, whither, oh, whither, oh, whither so high ? ” 

The old woman, still sweeping the air vigorously 
as she left the stage, called back, — 

To sweep the cobwebs from the sky. 

And I will be back again by and by.” 

Mother Goose. — “ Cracked, completely cracked ! 
Broken down by too much house-cleaning! What 
a sad warning ! ” 

Here entered a tiny boy, crying hard. 

Mother Goose — “There seems to be no end to 
the trouble in my family. Now what is the matter 
with you?” 

Little Boy {in a whining tone). — “I just met the 
black sheep, and I asked her as politely as I 
could, — 


311 


The Mother Goose Play, 

“ Baa, baa, black sheep. 

Have you any wool ? ” 

and she snapped out at me, — 

“Yes, marry, have I, 

Three bags full ; 

One for my master. 

And one for my dame. 

But none for the little boy 
Who cries in the lane.” 

The little boy went off crying aloud, “Boo, hoo, 
hoo ! ” 

Mother Goose . — “I don’t see what he wants of 
wool. When boys act like that, it always reminds 
me of one of my own beautiful poems, — 

** What are little boys made of, made of 1 
What are little boys made of ? 

Snaps and snails, 

And puppy dogs’ tails ; 

And that ’s what little boys are made of. 

“ What are little girls made of, made of 
What are little girls made of '? 

Sugar, and spice, 

And everything nice, 

And that ’s what little girls are made of.” 

Boy Blue. — “The Man from the South.” 

Mother Goose. — “ Dear me, he always expects 
bean porridge, and — 

‘ Routy tout tout. 

The fire ’s gone out ! ’ ” 

“I’m SO sorry, but you will have to take your 
porridge cold to-night,” handing the colored man a 
bowl. 


312 


A Jolly Good Summer. 

Colored Man . — “Better cold than none at all.” 
He eats rapidly. 

Boy Blue. — ‘‘The Man in the Moon.” 

This gentleman entered in haste, wearing a linen 
duster, and carrying a valise and umbrella, and asked 
hurriedly, — 

“ Can you tell me the way to Norwich? ” 

Mother Goose. — “ Why, the fact is, you ’ve come 
down too soon to inquire the way to Norwich. I 
declare, if that man from the South has n’t burnt his 
mouth eating cold plum-porridge ! Who would have 
thought it possible?” 

The Man from the Moon hurried off, consulting 
his watch, while the colored Man from the South 
departed in an agony of pain from his burned 
mouth. 

Boy Blue (in a tone of awe). — “The Ghost of 
Solomon Grundy.” 

Mother Goose held up her hands in horror, as Phil 
Kildare, a black-eyed, roguish boy, wrapped in a 
sheet, his face whitened with flour, stalked on, and 
in measured, solemn accents, recited, — 

“ Solomon Grundy, 

^ Born on a Monday, 

Christened on Tuesday, 

Married on Wednesday, 

Took ill on Thursday, 

Worse on Friday, 

Died on Saturday, 

Buried on Sunday. 

And this is the ghost 
Of Solomon Grundy!” 

As this interesting spectre faded away in the left 
wing, where he was greeted with audible giggles and 


313 


The Mother Qoose Play, 

loud whispers of ‘‘Hello, Phil,” Mother Goose sighed 
and wiped her eyes on her apron, saying, — 

“ How very sad ! I really feel quite depressed. I 
wish something would happen to cheer me.” 

Boy Blue (briskly). — The Bachelor and his Wife, 
on their wedding journey ! ” 

Jamie Eichardson came on trundling before him 
a tiny wheel-barrow in which was seated little 
Dorothy Shepard, in a quaint white bonnet, carrying 
a huge bandbox in her lap. 

Mother Goose. — “ Well, I am surprised. I did not 
even know that you were married. How did it come 
about ? ” 

Jamie recited, — 

“ When I was a bachelor, I lived by myself, 

And all the bread and cheese I had, I kept upon a shelf. 

The rats and the mice did lead me such a life, 

I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife. 

“ The streets were so broad, and the lanes so narrow, 

I was forced to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow. 

The wheelbarrow broke, my wife got a fall, 

Down tumbled wheelbarrow, little wife and all.” 

At the words, “the wheelbarrow broke,” Jamie 
deftly tipped Dorothy out upon the floor, bandbox 
and all, and the curtain fell as she ran laughing off 
the stage. 

Soon the curtain rose again on a grand tableau of 
all the characters, with Mother Goose in the centre, 
and Boy Blue announced, — 

“ Mother Goose in the bosom of her family ! ” 
Mother Goose, bearing a whip in her hand, 
advanced to the front, saying, — 


314 


A Jolly Good Summer. ^ 

“ There was an old woman who once lived in a shoe [that ’s I], 

Who had so many children she did n’t know what to do. ” 

[ Waving her hands to right and left, You can see for yourselves !] 

“ Some I ’ll give broth, 

And some I ’ll give bread, 

And some I ’ll whip soundly, 

And put them to bed.” 

She flourished the whip, the children ran in all 
directions, and the curtain fell. 

So ended the little performance, which had de- 
lighted every one, especially the performers. All the 
mothers were strongly of the opinion that it ought to 
be repeated soon in the evening for the benefit of the 
fathers. 

Business was now resumed briskly at all the tables, 
and the stock of dolls, candy, lemonade, and peanuts 
was rapidly dwindling, when a sound of weeping was 
heard; little Stanley crying aloud, and not to be 
comforted. 

What is the matter ? Is Stanley ill ? Has he 
been hurt ? ’’ asked every one, anxiously clustering 
around where Stanley sat in his mother’s lap, his face 
hid on her shoulder, crying as if his heart would 
break. 

It seemed that Stanley’s heart had been centred 
on his Jack Horner pie, and he had only waited 
impatiently for the fall of the curtain that he might 
eat that pie. And lo, it had proved a sham pie, a 
theatrical pie, made only of crust with no inside ; 
a pie like some people, fair to look upon but hollow 
at heart. The disappointment had been more than 
Stanley could bear. 

When the anxious inquirers learned the cause of 
Stanley’s grief, they considerately went away and left 


815 


The Mother Goose Play, 

his mother to comfort him, and soon Stanley was 
running as gaily about again as if this dark cloud 
had not shut out all his sunshine only a moment 
ago. 

When all the eatables and drinkables and nearly 
everything else had been sold, and when every child 
had spent his last penny, the fair closed, and the 
children found to their delight that they had cleared 
fifty dollars. This money was to be used to buy 
books for the Sunday-school library, and the express 
on the box to Nebraska was also to be paid from it. 

The next Sunday the children were asked to bring 
to the church parlor the following Saturday whatever 
they wished to send in the Christmas box for the 
Nebraska children. The box must be sent at least 
two weeks before Christmas, to arrive in season. 

Mrs. Strong and Rose Carman were to pack the 
box. Mrs. Strong had ordered from her grocer a 
wooden box which she feared would be too big. But 
when she and Rose reached the church Saturday 
afternoon, they gazed almost in dismay at all the 
bundles and packages the children had brought in, 
piled up on the floor, and covering chairs. 

Well,’’ exclaimed Mrs. Strong, after this, when 
we want anything done, we must certainly ask the 
children ! What are we going to do with all these 
things ? I believe we have two boxfuls.” 

We ’ll try, anyway, and see how many we can get 
into this box before we send for another,’" said Rose. 

The children had brought in many things that 
would brighten life not a little in the sod house far 
away in Nebraska. There were games and toys for 
all ages, and books without end. There was a big 


316 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

new doll for little Carrie from Miss Carman’s class, 
and also materials for a pretty plaid dress for her, 
from Miss Potter’s class. Mrs. Carman had sent over 
a warm overcoat as good as new that Elliot had 
outgrown. When Amy heard about it, she said, — 

^‘How nice that will be for Tommy or Jared to 
wear when they drive that thirty miles to town with 
their father ! ” 

Mrs. Strong did not forget to put in a little package, 
marked, — 

For the grandpa who dances jigs for the children.” 
She also sent Carrie the little cotton batting doll 
that she had bought at the children’s fair for the 
Fresh Air Fund in June, with a letter, telling her how 
Marie had made it when she was lying in bed, so weak 
and ill, to help raise money to send poor city children 
into the country, forgetting her own troubles in trying 
to help others. 

Ben Bruce’s mother sent, among other things, 
several pounds of dried peaches, saying, — 

was once teaching in the far West during one of 
these years of terrible drought, and I remember what 
a luxury anything of the fruit sort was.” 

Bose was a skilful packer, and as things always 
condense beyond belief in packing, everything was at 
last crowded into the box, except a few things which 
were saved out from the overflowing abundance of 
the children’s gifts, for the Day Nursery children’s 
Christmas. 

Then came another despair. 

I don’t believe we can ever nail this cover on,” 
said Mrs. Strong. “ As fast as I get it down on one 
side, it springs up on the other.” 


317 


The Mother Groose Play. 

But here, luckily, Bryant Taylor dropped in to see 
how the box was getting along, and by means of his 
sitting on the cover, the box was finally fastened 
securely. 

The Woman’s Alliance sent at the same time two 
barrels of clothing to the Kebraska family. In due 
time, Amy was at once pleased and dismayed by 
receiving the following letter from her friend 
Jared, — 

Dear Friend, — The box and the barrels are all here. I 
drove with papa to town to get them. Mamma is sick, so I 
write in her place to thank you for all the things. I am glad 
you sent some things for grandpa. Carrie likes the cotton 
batting doll very much, and her big doll, and her dress, and all 
the things. So do we all. Carrie thinks Marie must be a very 
nice little girl. We have lots of fun evenings playing the 
games. 

From your friend, 

Jared Johns. 

Why, mamma,” said Amy, he thanks me for all 
the things, as if I sent the barrels and everything. 
I am afraid people will think I took all the credit to 
myself.” 

Oh, no,” said her mother. Jared’s heart was 
simply overflowing with pleasure, and he had to 
thank some one, so he wrote to thank you, because you 
were his little correspondent.” 

Later came a letter from the mother, expressing 
more fully the children’s happiness in their gifts, and 
her own gratitude for the comforts that would do so 
much to tide her family over the long, cold winter. 

You do not know,” she wrote, what a luxury the 
dried peaches were to us. It is long since we have 


318 


A Jolly Good Summer, 

tasted any kind of fruit, and the peaches were greatly 
relished by us all.’’ 

All the letters were read to the Sunday-school, and 
the children felt fully repaid for any trouble they had 
taken to give so much pleasure to others. 

The year was now drawing to its close, and Christ- 
mas came again, an especially joyful Christmas to 
Amy, because Gladys and Philip were able to come on 
from New York then, and also because she had her 
first Christmas tree. As she told Kitty, — 

I never could have a Christmas tree, because there 
was only one of me.” 

But this deprivation was more than made up to her 
this year by the biggest tree Mr. Green could find, 
which he erected in the dining-room, which Amy 
decorated gorgeously from top to bottom with her 
own hands, and into whose delights Gladys and 
Philip entered with a zeal second only to her own. 
To it she invited Kitty, Bob, Irene, Eonald, Jack, 
Dorothy, and Elliot Carman, and a few grown-up 
friends. It was the merriest of Merry Christmases, 
and when Mrs. Clover went away, she said, — 

We shall always remember your Christmas tree, 
Amy.” 

It was a source of great happiness that mamma had 
at last not only promised her the much desired dog, 
but had actually been into the city to what Amy 
called “ the pet store,” and engaged a water spaniel 
puppy who would be just the right age to set up in life 
on his own account, on her coming birthday. Philip 
had engaged the dear Billington Sea cottage again 
for the coming season, and had asked Amy to come 
and spend the whole summer there. The girls’ 


319 


The Mother Goose Play. 

musical club proposed to give their grand musicale 
for the benefit of the Associated Charities early in 
February. Life was all bright and full of joyous 
plans and. hopes before the little girl. 

And so, loving and beloved, Amy entered on her 
Happy New Year. 


THE END. 





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JOLLY GOOD stories: 

BY 

. \ 

MARY P. WELLS SMITH. 


Jolly Good Times To=Day. 

Jessie McDermott. i6mo. 


With illustrations by 
Cloth. Price, ^1.25. 


A sensible book, and it is sensible because it is merry and natural. — New York 
T imes. 


A complete description of the happy every-day life of American children of the 
present day. — Christian Register. 

Natural, every-day children. — Churchman. 


day. 


One of the jolliest, most natural, and readable books we have read for many a 
— Boston Times. 


A most charming book for children, whose scene is laid in our very midst, is 
Mrs. Mary P. Wells Smith’s “Jolly Good Times To-Day.” The writer, Mrs. 
Fayette Smith, of Avondale, has been very successful in her books for young people, 
but this is the first instance where she has drawn upon her own beautiful neighbor- 
hood for materials. Apart from the interest felt in a description of people in our 
midst, the book is charming in its fresh, simple presentation of child-life. Mrs. 
Smith has the power of entering directly into the personality of her characters, and, 
as a result, they are real people. The book is full of local references that will interest 
Cincinnatians, and this fact, with its excellence as a story, should make it very popu- 
lar with our young folk. — Cincinnati Tribune. 

The book is rightly named, and is the fifth in a series of volumes bearing similar 
title, It is brimming from cover to cover with healthy, hearty, child’s companionship 
and wholesomely jolly times. It is the story of children whose lives are put in 
pleasant places, where the modern possessions of our day contribute freely to the 
general happiness; where the comradeship of elders gives no undue sense of parental 
authority, but, rather, a friendly sharing of mutual guiding ; where liberal instincts and 
thoughtful living create an atmosphere of growth and of personal privilege, wherein 

young lives may unconsciously expand toward a noble future. — Unity. 

1 

1 “Jolly Good Times To-Day,” by Mary P. Wells Smith, is a very pretty and 
natural story of child-life. The author evidently understands children, and sympa- 
thizes with them in their joys and griefs. She knows, too, how to entertain them in a 
bright, sensible way. — Christian Nitelligencer. 


Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed., postpaid, by the 
Publishers., 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 


Jolly Good Times ; or, Child Life on a Farm. Jolly 
Good Times at School. Illustrations by Addie^Led- 
YARD. l6mo. Cloth. Price, 11.25 each. 

Allow me to express, unasked, the zest and satisfaction with which I have read 
your new children’s book, “ Jolly Good Times, or, Child Life on a Tarm.” ... I am 
delighted that while our novelists are apt to ignore the joyous country life of New 
England, or to treat it as something bare and barren, it should still be painted in its 
true colors for children. A few literary faults can easily be pardoned in a writer who 
describes thus graphically the healthy pleasures of country children, putting so much 
oxygen into her story that it is like a whiff of wholesome air among the prevailing 
exotic flavors. — From a letter by T. JV. H igginsoti. 

“Jolly Good Times” not only deserves its title, but the further praise of being 
pronounced a jolly good book. The Kendall children and their neighbors and play- 
mates live in the Connecticut valley, not far from Deerfield. . . . The result is a 
charming local picture, quite worth the attention of English boys and girls, as show- 
ing what New England life is in a respectable farmer’s family, — plain folks who do 
their own work, but entirely free from the low-comic variety of Yankee talk and 
manners too often considered essential to the success of a New England story. — 
The Nation. New York. 

It is redolent of rural odors, vocal with rural sounds, and instinct with the simple 
sweetness of old New England life. . . The children are real creatures, compounds 
of good and evil, full of spirit, yet amiable and obedient. . . . The chapter in which 
the quiet passage of a country Sunday is described is remarkable for its fidelity to fact 
and its graceful expression. “Jolly good times” is as pure as a summer sky, and 
exhilarates without exciting. — Literary IVorld, Boston. 

“ P. Thorne ” is a pseudonym pleasantly associated in the minds of the readers of 
the Register with many bright and earnest contributions to its columns. “Jolly Good 
Times at School” is a sequel to her former venture. . . . Pleasing pictures it gives 
us of the school and child-life of New England as it existed twenty-five years ago, 
and as it still exists in the more secluded and rural districts. . . Interwoven here 
and there in the narrative are charming descriptions of the natural beauties and 
characteristic scenes of New England: the “cold snap,” the first snow storm, the 
exciting “coast down the mountain,” the Indian stories. — Christian Register, 
Boston. 


The Browns. l6mo. Cloth. Price, ;^1.25. 


The “Jolly Good Times” are two of the best juveniles in American literature 
The author now adds a third, equally fresh and delightful. — Boston Transcript. 

Domestic life in all its sweetness and truth is graphically and alluringly described 
in “The Browns.” . . . Wholesome, every-day lessons, pleasing, heart-satisfving 
pictures of home life are given in this pure and fresh story, which is as interestin'^- to 
adults as to juveniles — Boston Herald. “ 


A true children’s story is one of the most difficult branches of the literary art 
Perfect simpleness and naturalness are its first requisites, and these are Qualities whirli 
“ The Browns ” possesses in a marked degree. . . . The experiences are those which 
all young people are obliged to meet, and the moral conveyed in the telling of their 
story IS delicate, yet plainly put forth in such a manner as to win rather than repel the 
young reader’s interest. ... It is altogether one of the best juvenile stories we have 
in a long time. — Celia Parker Woolley, in Weekly Magazine, Chicago. 

Messrs. Roberts Brothers have published a capital child’s book in “The 
Browns, ’ by Mrs. Mary P. W. SmUh. . . . There is a fine, fresh flavor of country 
life in what she writes, -the air of fields and woods, the light of brooks, and the sone 
her characters particularly her children, are thoroughly real and human 
R. H. Stoddard, in New York Mail and Express. 

1 remember ever having read a book for children that w'as so thorough- 

ly admirable in every respect as “The Browns.” From its fidelity to Nature and its 
perfect character-painting, it is of absorbing interest from beginning to end The 
Brown children and their neighbors live in Cincinnati, and we are given a sketch of 
their life from the beginning of the winter till the end of a summer’s vacation spent at 
the seashore. . . . There are few writers who can make a good story for children. It 
IS an art of itself. The author of “ The Browns” is easily among the first of those 
who can do so. — New York Graphic. 

naturalness, jollity, good sense, and high moral tone, not many books surpass 
The Browns, ’ by Mary P. W. Smith. — Boston Congregationalist. 


Mary P W Smith has given us a charming book in “ The Browns.” . . . The 
Jessons of forbearance, kindness, obedience, independence, weave themselves into the 
narrative as they do in real experience of wholesome family life, and not in a forced 
and didactic way — New York Nation. 

Jolly Good Times at Hackmatack. Illustrated. l6mo. 
Cloth. Price, ^1.25. 

The story is charming, and charmingly told. — Bostofi Advertiser 

An excellent picture of a simple, homely life that is fast passing away — Chroni- 
cle, San Francisco, Cal 

The author has aimed to catch the spirit of the past age before it becomes 
vvholly traditionary, and has amply succeeded. To read it is like stepping into the old, 
simple, thrifty atmosphere of uncorrupted and unsated New England, where people 
lived “near to Nature’s heart ” —Jour7ial, Providence, R I. 

A bit of real literature is Mary P. Wells Smith’s “ Jolly Good Times at Hackma- 
tack.” It is a story of the child life of New England sixty years ago ; and it has all 
the vividness of actual experience. There surely is no small reader, boy or girl, who 
can withstand the charm of this recital of the country fun of grandpa’s childhood, and 
no grandpa, who, taking a surreptitious peep at the book, will put it down until he has 
turned the last leaf. Every Christmas sees a swarm of new books for children, not 
many of which deserve to live, but this little volume ought to be preserved as a per- 
manent addition to the chronicles of New England life — New York Tribune. 

_ A capital children’s story is “ Jolly Good Times at Hackmatack.” It is full of 
spirit and fun, graphic in description, sensible and improving without any formality, 
and in a word, just wdiat young people enjoy, and what wise parents give them to 
enjoy. — Congregatio7talist, Boston 

“ Jolly Good Times at .Hackmatack ” is a child’s story of western Massachusetts, 
and it excellently reproduces those now distant days when cattle were driven to Boston 
market from half the hill towns of New England, when the minister’s and the lawyer’s 
boys went barefoot like the farmers’, and when country life m New England seemed a 
great deal nearer the soul of things than it has been of late. Mrs. Smith, who writes 
from near Cincinnati, has an agreeable and simple style, and can be read with pleasure 
by many who are older than the children she describes so closely. — Republica7i, 
Springfield, Mass. 

A charming picture of the old stage-coach days, and the life in the staid country 
minister’s family. The boys and girls who read this interesting book will get a good 
idea of the simple life when their fathers and mothers were young. — Christian 
Register, Boston. 

More Good Times at Hackmatack. Illustrated. l6mo. 
Cloth. Price, ^1.25. 

A thoroughly charming and enjoyable book. Spring cleaning, soap-making. Fast 
Day, sugaring in the woods, making hay, and other rural sports and labors are told of 
with the most delicious freshness and vividness. To children of a larger growth this 
book will be a perpetual reminder of their own far-off youth and childhood. — 
Brooks, in the Book-Buyer. 

The story is as clean and wholesome. as the air which it breathes. The book is 
full of fun and go; and the boys who are prevented by circumstances over winch they 
have no control from having good times at Hackmatack at first hand, can enjoy them 
without difficulty or fatigue in any other part of the world, thanks to Mrs. Mary F. 
Wells Smith. — Chicago Tribtine. 

It is a lifelike story of New England country life in the early part of this century, 
and is full of interest of more than one kind. It is photographic in the fidelity of hs 
pictures, and is written with vivacity and good judgment. Co7igregati07ialtst, 
Boston. 

Readers of “Jolly Good Times at Hackmatack” will be delighted to continue 
the story of childhood life long ago in that delightful hill town of western Massachu- 
setts. Whatever may be said of New England life by those who know it only as de- 
picted by Mrs. Stowe, Rose Terry Cooke, Miss Jewett, Miss Wilkins, and others, 
that it was and is narrow, hard, sordid, gloomy, — it would be hard to convince any 
one who has had a New England country childhood that childhood anywhere else in 
the world could be so wholly delectable. Mrs. Smith writes with that conviction, and 
her story is not a bit too optimistic for youthful readers, or older ones of New England 
rearing. — Provide7tce yournnl. 


The series of bright, breezy stories in the present volume will awaken many a 
hearty laugh and bring a sunny hour into many a sombre day. Mrs. Smith’s stories 
are not only cheery and pleasing, but are so simple, pure, and truthful as to be a help- 
ful and stimulating influence to those young people who read them. — Cincinnati 
Herald and Presbyter. 

The latest of the Hackmatack books brings to a close these delightful annals of 
farm life fifty years ago which have taken high rank as bits of real literature. . . . 
Few books so bridge the gulf of years, or bring back so vividly the old ways and 
means as do these simple sketches of New England life. Their charm lies in their 
atmosphere of hearty good-nature, in their fresh and exuberant style, and in their 
entire truthfulness. There is no effort to instruct, or to inculcate a moral, yet the 
teaching is undeniably there. Mrs. Smith is entirely at home in these reminiscences 
of happy childhood, and in what she writes there is an exhiliarating flavor of country 
living quite individual. 


Their Canoe Trip. Illustrated. l6mo. Cloth. Price, 

$i. 2 S. 

A pleasant, breezy, out-of-door story. — Literary World, Boston. 

Mrs. Mary P. W. Smith has made a delightful book out of this canoe trip, taken 
by two Boston boys on six New England rivers, which lead them from Francestown, 
N. H., down to their home. ... So bright a book as this ought to show bright boys 
that it is not necessary to become a cowboy in order to have a taste of wild life out of 
doors, but that travels near home can be quite lively enough. — Bulletin, Pittsburgh, 
Pa. 

If all books written expressly for the young were like “Their Canoe Trip,” the 
reviewer would have small need of any vocabulary but that of praise — Boston 
A dvertiser. 


“ Their Canoe Trip,” purports to be written by a woman. Almost we do not be- 
lieve it. How can a woman enter so completely into the boys’ substance and come out 
again, bringing with her the very essence of boyishness, its love of adventure, of 
hairbreadth ’scapes, of pretty girls, and good grub ? A prominent librarian has said 
that the greatest readers of boys’ books of adventure were girls Such books as this 
go far to persuade one that the best writers of such books are girls grown up. A very 
few days and only a little over one hundred miles of canoeing furnish the material for 
this pretty volume. From Francestown, N.H , to Roxbury, through the Piscataquog, 
the Merrimac, the Concord, the Asabet, the Charles and Neponset Rivers, two manly 
and merry boys work the Black-Eyed Susan They make from three to six miles a 
day, and not a mile but is set thick with happenings and doings to rivet the reader’s 
interest. There are repeated escapes from a watery grave and from threatened starva- 
tion, from riverside ruffians and factory thieves, from belligerent cows and killing 
maidenly eyes. . . . Boys and girls alike will pronounce this a “ jolly book,” in spite 
of the wet skins and aching bones and mortifying delapidation of its heroes. — 
Tribune, Cambridge, Mass. 


“ Their Canoe Trip ” is a charming story, and the most interesting feature is 
that it is really true. Two Roxbury boys actually made the trip in 1875, the book 
is dedicated to them. They have had a successful trip, and have learned lessons in 
manliness, endurance, and the power of overcoming unforeseen difficulties which will 
last as long as they live Mrs. Smith makes a delightful story out of their adventures 
by the way, which cannot help interesting youthful readers, it is so full of incident, so 
natural an ' 


Nob 


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Boston Transcript. 

An uncommonly lively and agreeable story. 


irfial. 

boy’s reading has been published this year. 


■New York Tribune, 


These books are well adapted for the use of Sunday-School and 
District-School Libraries, or for supplementary reading 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston 


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